Beneath the uplifting
levity of your eyelashes
there is a residence on
earth (oh, Neruda!)
for the troubled souls
misspelled by ancient love,
love that survives,
endures, thrives,
gazing at our embrace under
the starry cosmos
our kisses filled with
nurtured sighs and whispers.
Between regions of
everlasting pleasure,
vessels of delicacies,
passengers of gourmandise.
We, divinely entangled by
love and endearment,
an everlasting feeling of
joy
and the ride of your lips on mine. Ever.
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