kissing of the hot soul; flowing through our palms, and palms, indeed, can kiss where lips can't..
that's how pilgrims do kiss, right? shakespeare can't be wrong.
and i'm glad we're so far from being just romeo and juliet..
we call each other names and we still 'are'.. there, purified and clear.
i like you to be there. wide open. with wild dark chocolate eyes..
and 'the ribbons of coal' in my hands.. i squeeze them like crazy, smell the scent, feel heaven.
where i'm nothing heavenly.. you took me to the very 'garden of trust',
"and i was swept away with nothing left to say.."
that's what i call praying. that's my way of worship..
in the night "i go back to my man, you go back to your world
and we're back to being friends"
"a very familiar story" says dave.
i glare into the sea.
the sea glares into me..
-dreamlog # 713743