I'll show you mine. If you show me yours.

I can'not be held accountable for third degree burnsk appearing as stigmata. patterned as tessellations all over your six-foot-three-frame. And what about your hands that have begun to entice me to the point of aggravated infatuation. my urges,your peculiarities :juxtaposed.

My head is begging to 

rest

upon the broadness of your shoulders

the

planes of your chest.

you are writing a novel

a combination of all your most recent:seeds

your portfolio of secret thoughts.

the way you compile each emotion

each manic

desire

each romantic

score

reads to me like a riverbend

a mountain

or a Popsicle stand

all momen-tary

all signs of the season.

He spoke to me of the valley's of his heart

And rejoiced of the golden pillars he sees

between my eyes and within my lips,spun gold through

each word.

I am cupping my face inside the protection of my own two hands

he is:red cheeks, looking down:asking me what I think of

this?

I'll show you mine. If you show me yours.