Poem #4

Sometimes the best way to be touched is metaphysically.
Between us, I crave this mental discourse
The one where you tell me all about my past lives
And how you knew me in Paris back when
The Dadaists were throwing roses on
everybody’s heads.
Or the time in Italy when I was carrying
Buckets of water on my hips
Letting the source flow from side to side
Mimicking the rhythm of women
Drenched in the green smell of basil.
If you could let me touch you and if you
Could believe that I saw that this is the first time we’ve met.
That this pairing is as new as the lives we put on
The last time we stepped forward from death
Maybe you could understand that it’s not
The touch of our of skin but
The way in which our worlds intermingle
That bring passion and a newfound delight
To the worlds that we’ll create
To the endpoints that we will travel
Powered by light and love and my
Endless reminder to speak directly to my soul
So I can hear you better.

Author: Erica V.

Always seriously joking and rambunctiously soft-spoken.

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