A black sky surrounds the house, your hands follow the entwined lines leading past inexplicably joined forms, and you mine gold from hidden rivers, the taste of the water there reminds you of lost memories where blood is blood, and shed for much less than this.
you took my hand the the heart quickly followed
clouds foreshadowed a rain which drown us both in its dar return. it set you to wondering again as you reached to find, to hold to, where the blood beat
and unfulled the colors of resurrection. the shadows of her lashed flutter, the new colors of her tears foreign, their fragrance an intoxication, this region where he lies, holding onto this spirit, which he knows is his own.
the mirror is quiet, empty of difference in its fascination with equality, she thinks if his hands find places hidden from her, who is she, what stranger lay here, now familiar again. the mirror is quiet and returns what each already know. How long do they gaze, how much splendor, how much truth revealed.