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deepundergroundpoetry.com

The Object of Fixations

 
The angles were always variable  
constellations, infinite  
stillness of water abstruse  
and the aching yearn to lie with you  
entangled with bewilderment  
like beams of moonlight, buried deep  
in its own reflection of lavender silence.
  
I stretch my thoughts to the edge  
with brazen obsession of redolence  
circling your fire, aslant to the heat  
keeping the winter's chill at bay  
with friction of my flesh  
grinding with yours  
hip to bone, soft against hard.  
The hush of words in quietude  
fall in staccatos, stoking the hearth  
with our fantasies afire.  
The burn, imminent  
yet; I surrender  
in your cage-less embrace  
orbiting to the center of your soul.  
  
You flirt, alongside  
to the blue moonlight  
taking a strand of my hair
wrapping around your finger with slow  
acute precision of an executioner  
pulling me closer, unveiling  
my inhibitions with your piercing gaze  
painting the ripe lush landscape  
moulding and sculpting
every curve and fold with wild determination  
taking pleasures from liquified rapture
recreating
Object of fixations.  
  
Be
my chaos  
if not  
my salvation  
of unruly obsessions.
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