Speaking stones

This is the story of us

Story perplexed

I try to feel with my fingertips

The iris of your eyes

Your smooth touch

Your lips

Your hunger

In my belly

Stones you speak instead of words

Arrive at my front door

Bury me in certain amorous sympathy

The weight of your cold heart

Touching the warm fog of my illusions

Makes sudden rain

Imagined and real

All a part of the same perceiving

Once again