The lovers.

My fingertips
     glide
upon a current, charged
with your scent

Thousands of fine filaments
Rise
on its waves, bridging
a bitter-
     sweet
separation

Let this distance not grow
to be too great
     nor too deep
For this fine wire
of perfect percipience,
should Snap

Let it not become a chasm
too long or too far
Till our spirits
     humbly
meet once again,
On those crystalline shores

Beyond
this border,
guarded by the senses
Eyes, turned inward,
     Sightless.
In your lightness,
mirrored,
I perceive my own dark
night

Old wounds
long neglected,
     Banished
by fear, to be hidden
Beneath judgement and shame

Brought into the sun-
light restored, they flutter,
fragile
ugly
things, no more.

Yet still, I hesitate.

A dream.
my hand suspended
     trembling
in a formless
void

So, laden
     with longing
is this painted caress