the messages I try to send

[mercuriazs]

... Don't read anything into it. >.>

juliet

The angel came to me like the last candle lit:
rain lashing the trees,
your shadow in the bed, your fingers
silhouetted over mine;
in a voice murmuring
"you were made to love."
If I could isolate its atoms and its
chromosomes,
adenine guanine cytosine eros,
s'agapo and the round compass of your arms,
ribs circumscribing the dictum
and the arrows of it,
both of us a roadmap to love--

I am broken off from some piece
of the holy host,

but I could almost believe, now,
in warmth by my own light--
and yours.