We brandish
a tidal wave of tiredness and emotion
gazing into eyes that’ve long belonged
somewhere else:
learning loving as a process,
like birth and death.

Between you and me
there is no beginning and no end
we are an old testament of swirling cloud,
thunder spat from God’s lips
to land sizzling on sticky summer tarmac;
we’re as incomprehensible as nature
with nowhere left to go
between the inhalation of our breath.

In this English autumn we’re
escaping to lost continents
returning to deserts of our imagination
where a brown river flows, as it always will.

Between the presumption
of others & the declaration of our piece
we are enamelled jewels hanging on the living breath
of the universe, as it lives us.
We are lost in the mesmerism of our love
like opiated Emperors sensuality dripping from our fingers
a perfumed bath of opulence to drown in.

In struggling to resurface
we try to obtain reality, but fail
leaving shell shocked dependants
& past loves writhing at our feet.

We are blind in our splendour
omnipotent in our need
& naked for the first and last time.