Marimba
By ecologist
the walls REPEAT the hollows of her BODY a memory falling TUMBLING into the void, left HUNGERING for the touch, the BREATH of you, playing TENTATIVELY over my skin the beat -- of the MARIMBA singing to your soul the soft muted REDS becoming AUBURN hair under the moonlight with me. Written February 27th, 2002 © on Feb 27 2002 12:04 AM PST 0 • 8
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"the walls ..."