Sunday, January 4, 2015

the island of you

an ankle,
an arm, a set of lips
and legs,
the oasis
of your mouth
parted. the white
beaches
of your skin.
you are the island
I have landed
on, swum
to without a map
or compass
to guide me.
I will rest here
until it's time
to move on,
the day will come
before you
know it, it's what
I do best. I dive
back in, and swim.

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