Le paradis n'est pas artificiel …

March 31, 2004

Words of Return

It was all so familiar, I can't remember

which words I greeted you with when

you returned. I don't remember you

coming back, my first gesture of touch,

whether your presence had bathed me

incessantly, or as never before.

Like a cat in the sun, I know neither ---

but rapture, it's familiar.

Posted by Delire at March 31, 2004 09:56 AM
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