Every beginning has a story and
in this one, you are the reason
why ‘phrontistery’ has no synonyms
or a specific meaning and transparency.
And I am only the moonlight girl
that likes the right side of the bed,
not because you claim the left yours,
but because the word ‘nihilarian’
suits better the tiny, strawberry-like
birth mark on my lower back
and the ‘widdiful’ dragons in your silence.
And all I desire is a reason, and a quire,
azurelaid and antique, to pencil down
the seconds dancing at half- pace
when we master anatomy and ‘agastopia’,
when instead of scars and ‘brontides’
the stars leave luscious trace in the night,
and the velvet ’causeuse’ is no longer ‘lethological’
but wild, kiss-consuming, violent with delight.
©2013, B. T., All rights reserved