Assumptions

Creature with
fore arms
made of  sad gold
that are kissable. Just.
And barely hidden.
His arms-crisp lines
of augmented reality.

He moves
with uncomfortable grace.
Like a childish gust
of shy fingers.
Woman's mouth-
biting
anxiety,
and chewing,
sadness.

Stares sharp and dark
into a melting world.
Gone from my lap
My talk.
My arms.
My body.
My waist.
As easily,
as he lay over them.

Carrier of death in his brows.
Furrowed
image
of wanting.

Sexual in his desires,
and man's eyes.
Poppy
of female circles and triangles
between the legs.

Is soft in sleep,
and warm under moon coloured-sheets,
night in his hair,
on his torso.
Slender neck
that fits heads perfectly

Cannot hear me crying at night,
because of wild dreams
and pedestals that have formed him.

Moody fingers
sometimes.
And perfect forehead for smoking.
Lets loose
in full laughters
that are aching with
the words of birth.

Glad teeth,
that open generous
to all beings
and noises
and are sometimes scared.

Silent eyes
that fill mountains
with gut
and brine.
And
the fear
that they may
undo
your






happiness
all over again.