



I HAVE LOST MYSELF . . .
I HAVE BECOME YOU
In the tresses of your hair
I am bound to you always
I have no hope for release
In the pools of your eyes
I am drowned and die happily
Celebrating my fate
Your face ensnares my mind
and
by your slender neck
I am broken
Your breasts are miracles and in awe
They open my palms to praising
Where your waist draws in all things
I am trapped
And then
Flourish again in the grand sail of your hips
inhaling and soaring with a luscious pride
I am baptized by the sacred swelling of your abundant backside
That rounds and turns like an odalisque
A full moon of blessing
And in your quiet place there are secrets
that I wish to learn
And know I never will
The two rivers of your thighs flow down
Turning tenderly towards each other
Sweetly they stream to the pools of your knees
Where they gather
and pour out again into the calm lakes of your
shy calves
and
down into the conundrumed cornerstones
of
your feet
From the sky of your appearance
To the depths of adoration
I have fallen
I have lost myself
I have become you