Poetry of a Conlanger

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

Truly Fluent (4/9/06)

Closer, closer, closer-
Under darkness mixed with shadow
Down to minute factions of mind,
We pull closer.

Butterflies gather and swarm-
Unpredictable as wind,
Wonderful as sugar.

Sipping slowly at first,
Then letting go and drinking
To the brim until
We are both drunk.

I can feel sparks-
Flashing, exploding, making
Electric contact between us.

Withdraw slightly,
And hurry back for more,
But oh, oh, oh-
The butterflies remain!


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