braille in the morning.

textures retain their eloquence,

anchored in fog; its humble shroud.

elusive is the thrill of sight,

until these fingers touch your skin.

 

hollowed out interiors, this

twin device of patterned intake.

vacant lots find redemption when

through these tunnels, your scent revives.

 

and i, a wretch in your shadow,

conceding to completion of

such fulfillment.  levels peaking.

your presence whole, your being light.


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Stephen M
Poetry
Free Verse
writing Stephen M
Doesn't write as much as he should.
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