I need your touch,
not physical. Spread your wings
and come in my dreams.
You know hills
were crying. The sun has
not fondled the planet today.
Like poison ivy, it gives
you an itch, to break the
orbit and tear away your silk.
Yes deathness was important.
Does everything comes to
an end, unannounced?
The rocks sometimes
start moving to find their home.
Your brown eyes
still chase me to cross
the wet boundaries of pain.
A chunk of a star can decide.