Onward

Intuition says to leap forward into the past savoring it's future.

Mouth tastes that familiar kiss consuming my steady footing,

leaning me against a heart beat consumating me in its serenade.

Cloak my bareness in your wounds
and warm me in your arms.

There clings not a silver lining drawing our direction cleary in the lightning bolts too shaky grounds.

Savegly we grip,
grasp,

hold on to a fire that sweats
our flesh of burdens.

Cradle this bottled up pain in your irises and let it mingle with the torments of seperation until nothing waits to boil over our edges.

Train the past too sit in its place lonely behind our memories.

Mind it's own,

so we may loosen our fears from their holsters to face the suns criticism.

Actuality is the exorcism of demons from these fragile forms,

so we may bare wings to move hand in hand,

forward,
without a wandering eye glancing behind in the rearview mirror.

ThIs truth be our reflection,

both what was and what is,

but the later is the best of us...

No chains hold us to prisons apart from love and still no binds hold us to this stance..

Choice is conjoined in our decision to wear each others skins
and shake in fits of rage and past in demon's release from hearts.