Magnetic Field
The sunset lingers on,
anticipates with drowsing rays
insatiable repose in a green
and yellow sea.
The burnished flare burns on
under glassy blue skies,
fragrance sifting spun gold hair,
unhurried, languidly.
Liquid violets stare
telescopic at invisible stars;
glint at the moistened parting of
Dresden cherry lips.
Born to such timeless hour,
sighing grass and killing jars,
honey from the waxen comb
salaciously it drips.
Warm air is torn asunder,
split by the softest gasp,
feverish the seeking for
the sweetest yield.
Earth and seed dies silent screaming
as they tear the very roots
with hands that claw and grasp
at love's magnetic field.
Now this deed is done,
darkness falls on youth,
putting pennies on the sockets
where violet fades to black.
Yet again may rise the sun
shedding light upon the truth,
in the shadows of their knowing
only opposites attract.
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