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Infinity On Fingers
by Deborah Russel

Soliloquies in a musty smell-
damp volumes in dank libraries
your hand fumbles in awkward silence
the door step outside a lifeless home
pretending to read poetry - tangled in poignant rhyme,
our hearts and souls union of minds
and separate thoughts
embrace essence, for a moment,
loosen the grip of fingers of time
our book unpenned, pages unturned,
and a plot filled with mystery
strange silences - estranged
i want to stare at you although i'm blind
and linger on each word and line
all illegible notations

i need your definition, through persuasion

down sandy seam of sapphire tides and mistic winds
deep whisperings take my breath in rapid tide
where sparkling air descends, returns ascension

in deep slumber the music strayed, it's strings floated to the sky
but there was the dance and perfumed mist of sea and eyes
when sweet wind stroked our hair
it was then
and we counted stars and infinity on fingers
while the sun slid
into the horizon
yet small dark wings pressed against temporal lobe
dilemmas became augmented

why do I do this?

in stellar formations this nebulae of our being
this super nova, quasar of nirvana -
the touch of you is a constellation
that launches orbits - satellites, starry skies,
and van gogh perceptions
to disappear below
the horizon of a summer sun

your beautiful pain
grey eyes clouded with mysteries
stories unread and i am blind and bound
in the departure of faculty,
lucid stupidity
       enter insanity
moonbeams a futile disguise
and naked thoughts skitter across the divide
the moon looks through my anonymity
cognizant you and I are but living memory
insatiable want, desire dies
time's saber plunges deep,
around my throat - a white flag of sweet surrender
this love is killing me
a poem writing variables - unresolved
a broken pencil tossed, but the pen skips a beat
on every written word parallels are all I can see

... help me to think

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