The soul has much to say

Simple pleasures...

Ironclad, habits
No urgency, no priority
The tickling of the senses
Universal, alias


A system of touch,
the small of a woman's back
A matter of trust,
matching her eyes the color, of dawn

Fruit, under the guise of flesh
Pinto Gris? Strawberry, perhaps?
My tongue, my lips
Territorial, warfare

...there are, no losers

Her dreams sung,
as she sleeps
Breath of an angel,
secrets of an icon

...I won't tell, a soul

Caressed, by the wind
Her crown, the seams of tomorrow
Silken, prism
The hue, doesn't matter

...the future, is color blind

Simplicity's kiss,
so soft
Easy to love,
easier to keep

...I've never asked, for much

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Simple pleasures...

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