1. i long for colour laughing
juices from my fingertips
no feeble washes rather
the strong stubborn stroke
a bold cut over virgin
canvas the pigment
of desire is
within
2. i long for the intimacy of
a slow indian summer
sun kissing skin
uninhibited courtyards
veiled afternoons
stained with doves
3. footsteps like petals through
long cool passages
open doors
drowsy rooms speckled skin
pillows plump with sleep
a mirror
reminiscing
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