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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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