Crave

a hammer of soul
on the window pane
because my heart is rain
my mind the trace of it
against the sun.
ineffably ardent,
inexplicably sorry,
indescribably sad.
but sadness is nothing.
nothing but the hunt
for something in
a dark place
without candles.

oh
how i craved 
that rock of body
against mine
in perpetual 
motion
in ardent
thrust
and 
touch

oh. Oh.

perhaps i am just carried 
away by the undertow
of song. 
perhaps i am 
illiterate for love.
but love is nothing.
nothing but the hunt.
nothing but the candle.

The End

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