Dark Holes

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Dark Holes
 
Cradled
in your thighs,
musing into you
over origins,
over desires
and the taste
of returning
into
dark holes.
 
Kissing
along you,
looking into
the nightful chasms
of your eyes
and wondering...
 
If our bodies
enter and leave
through earthen holes
tasting
of the sea,
than what of us
is born awash
in the springs
of vision
and what returns
there?
And to what eyes
where?
 
A promise spoken
softly in the brown
way you look
at me,
that while
there is dying
there is no death
and of birth
and death
there is only
the urging
through dark
earthen holes
tasting
of the sea
and all desire,
just a taste
returning.
 
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