[envira-gallery id=”3033″]
What does love say to death
with the touch of black leather
When the writing hand breathes
this too we want more
Time to the lover becomes
an anxiety of parting
Not knowing where it can touch
I ask this of you, come
and want
come, lover, do
Yes, before I go love will
lose itself, in itself
Thats how desire becomes love
April 2016, © Image and Words
