Oct 312013
To one who is all love unbound
I give the velvets of this voice--
The rounded syllables of this sound.

Fly past precincts of mere chance, mere choice!
Let freezing History hiss silent arctic scholars,
Not you, with its cool, histrionic noise.

Let you come near as kisses on a collar;
Be near, till breath inflicts on breath,
Be near when hot breaths pant shallow.

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