Sunday, August 29, 2010

The Saxophone Bouquet

Within these walls, I can be your anything
Screaming midnight verses,
Or whispering from a bottle
My blood stained sonnets, endlessly
Until you reach out loving hands
To silence these orphaned songs
Kissing their life away
Colder than a blue morning's breath
Then, with a sigh
Laying bare the secret geography of your body
Its Mediterranean skin
Concealing all those ancient passions
Which fill you, like a fever
Whenever I speak of love

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