12/9/13
She told me she was never wanted to be a priest. Never religious. Never a sheikh. But my sacred monster was her martyr. It drooled red all over my lungs and had me coughing up the truth into my palms until I was caught red-handed. Into palms. Into psalms 3 vs 54. The Bible says that you must not lay with me. In a coffin, I assume. We cannot both fit into the timeline of death in sync. But I still cuddle your ego in the shadow of my dark matter. 95% of the universe is dark matter and you want me to lighten up. Be my sun then turn me on when I'm too tired and turn beautifully red for me when you kiss my waves. Baby, I'll let you sink into me for as ling as you need to.
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7/22/14
We said so much without words that we could start to hear what each breath meant. Wordless. Yet we said so much. That happens quite often, really. How I always say so much without words and they always say something back. I'm re-teaching folks a language they've known for lifetimes. I'm speaking from the code written in our DNA and you're finally replying. I never said that you had a voice that melded into the frequency of a song I dig but I didn't have to. Intuition. Tune-in. The more you listen, the louder it gets, the closer you become to discovering what we have all forgotten.
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