I can follow your soul
in the curve and swerve of your skin
as my fingertips trace
the flow of your blood through limbs
so warm
and soft
and fragrant
that I barely
( rarely )
complete the tracery
for I must breathe
and I dare not
while touching you
for fear that so heavy is my soul
that you would blow away
like dandelion seeds
on the winds of twilight
which is when I most desire you
____
Tracery
- William F. DeVault -
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