s h

. loveisa  b o d y  language .

​

​

​

​

do not caress me with words

when the way your

hands clench

each moment i brush your shoulder

spill secrets of solitude.

my space is infinite

and able to

usher a universe.

but, if your cup runneth over,

rushing so fast it's

no longer receptive,

then,

my love,

you know nothing yet of

cosmic connection.

​

there is another lifetime.

 

 

 

 

 

 

- sasha hinds -