beach house

By blbest

I want to ride a bicycle at night
beside you,
and tie the moon’s tethers to my handle bars
like a kite made of kerosene
hung in a night painted black in burnt
match sticks,
with your hair moving in the breeze like a ballroom,
and when we reach the water’s edge, we’ll be content to just lie there,
washed ashore from paved streets and sidewalks.

We’ll bury our toes beneath the sand, and push small stones
below the surface with our heels,
planting rocks and pulling up planets,
to press into the soft sky above a quiet coastal town
until they bloom into constellations.

I want to hold celestial bodies
between my fingers,
with your hips,
and pull you closer to heavens with each soft touch,
as dawn prepares to greet us with saltwater fresh on its tongue

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beach house

Created: Jul 04, 2010

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