Never A Tale

Love is never a tale,
it is always a story.
The threads from eyes
woven around the heart,
words blossoming inside,
which are the weeds of lies.

Kisses that aren’t shadows
of one’s meant for others,
caresses in virgin anticipation
that feel like earthquakes.

Perfumed nights inhaled
by a lavender scent’s enticement,
slowly seeping inside
from a lover’s breath
upon your skin,
where you sense the unblemished touch
not carrying any deception,
laughter comes from the hollow of loneliness
because an embrace flowers the emptiness
with a bouquet of thoughts.

Joy quivers in quakes to the body
by the tremors in affection,
rising as a sunrise
to bring a glow inside
lasting constantly.

You lose the oneness of solitude
for the soul’s airy flight
where the other part of your very life
awaits to join you as a cloud,
carefree, happy and drifting,
serenely soaring in soft streams
of stunning sighs.