Dear Reader
You are my first and only reader.
You look at me with warm eyes.
But you do not critique me
or search my gladness in your gaze
for a subtext
to imprison me with.
In your arms, I am a story
whose ending muted soft
by the intensity of your love
is full of a wondering happiness.
Release me and I am
but the chaos of a passage.
Not knowing where I begin,
I never know how to conclude myself.
So hold me and let your kisses
render me less than a story,
more of air
than the most lyrical poem.
Let me be a phrase you hold forever,
or the full stop to your search.
Subsume me till I am no text at all,
just the rhythm to your love.
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