I have made love to you on these moon lit nights so much that your breasts have painted themselves on my eyes so that I am more grateful now when the sun and moon have shut their own door to consummate their love leaving us in darkness so deep that I now am learning your shape against my own body – a view from a thousands angles all at once, and now I am jealous of the blind man who can see your face from every inch of eternity spread across his palm.
screaming at low volumes
