United Kingdom

semi on hiatus because i have decided i am no writer

kiss and the stranger

September 26, 2018


it's winter; the world is white, and it's almost too dark to see
​your figure: there's an inferno, a maelstrom of snow -
​the sharp, spiteful, stinging kind. amongst it all,
​there's silence, and yet a thickness, a tension,
like the world is tuning: bows tightening, the 
​keen strain of hair against wood; the faint and rustic tones
​of a flute; the blooming darkness of the brass - 
​and there's a hue to it, a quiet, blossoming transfusion 
​of sweet, secret sound. and then I hear you:
​you're as clear as my footsteps against the snow, yet cautious -
​I've never seen you before, and the snow hits your face
like dust, the same way it hits mine, reddened a little
​by the ice. but you're still obscured - I don't know you -
​does that matter? I hear your breath, stranger, the
​odd and curious, uneven outward breaths -
​the whispers of your beating heart. in this moment,
​it's mine - we're alone together, it's dark and the snow
​bites us two just the same, and I can hear your breathing,
​and you mine, like a kiss. I don't know you, stranger,
​but I know your pulse, I know your heartbeat - isn't that more? --
​and then you're close to me, quite suddenly, and the snowflakes
are convulsions, warped tumults, contortions -
​and our eyes catch: blue meets blue, and something flickers,
​a glimmer across the azure - and then it's a flame, a blaze
​which hits me with the heat of prometheus' hands, scours
​my face, and those hands - god, I can feel them running
​through my hair, the heat of your breath against my neck -
​and we're aflame, all it takes is an outward breath
​and I'm yours in the snow and the dawn's light, stranger,
​it casts streaks of searing orange light against your nose, your cheeks -
​we burn together - i'll learn the contours of your hands -
​the gentle, sweeping arc of thumb to palm, your fingers -
​all from a breath, stranger: that's it, we're married 
​in a union of fire and flesh and fingerprints
​and it's consuming me, three heavenly seconds -
​a contraction, then explosion of the snow and the sun and
​the earth and the moon and the heart and the soul and the spirit and 
scalding passion pain pleasure power plea p r a y e r 

​and then there's silence.
​you walk on,
and the flakes cover the template
of your feet on the asphalt
like neither of us were ever here.
cold diffuses across the space
where the warmth of our blood
met in one body.
the embrace.
a golden Klimt kiss
​of particles and air and dust
and ash.


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  • September 26, 2018 - 5:50pm (Now Viewing)

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  • mayfly

    I’m in love with this, gorgeous detail work in your work choice and the imagery set my brain on fire (in a good way) lovely!!!

    over 2 years ago
  • Kenny

    This is P O W E R F U L

    over 2 years ago