J. Burgess

August 16, 1999 - Dundonald, Belfast
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Good morning, darling

Lying in bed I think about you,
your pretty hanging plants and air-filled apartment
and your big eyes. Its midday, and rushed
I admire the thought of another noon
bathing in awe and elation
just existing in a particle and swing,
of synchronous touch. Your wet mouth
and the pacing heart beating out any responsibility. Lay
still now to breathe smoke from a cigarette, one big exhale I see you smile through smoke, telling tales of love with half whispered sleep. Despite the falling snow
you land on my white body like a delicate drop, quietly
graceful and assuring. Budding flowers seeped in colour. A sight and smell. A spell intertwined.
A limitless space
I am
Inside you.
Our garden, that is fresh with life.
A forever spring of blowing seeds, waltzing together.
Until we are the last two things
Beside the sun and moon.
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