Sunday, April 19, 2015

Sculptor

Questions hang in the air
Like thin icicles
Unspoken unbeknownst
Plaguing the heart and head

We held hands
While minds were a maze
Locked in our universe
Crashing tumult

Sodden with blushes
Heat rising from the feet
Hunger of another kind
Blanking out memory

I found the answers then
As I gazed upon you
I found my answers
In your luminous eyes

In your skin of sunshine
Your lips of pearl
Your hands of gnarled wood
Precious, oh so precious

And in your proximity
Time stood still
And in that stillness
Rose a sculptor

Engraved, ensnared
Embattled, enthused
Chiselled away at me
Tore down defences

Broke down walls
Made me his home
Rested, famished
And feasted his eyes upon my old old soul.

And there, he too, found himself.

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