I have slept,
slumbering,
yawning,
and dreamt
beautiful dreams.
I have swallowed
my own tears
while salt parched lips,
desert dry,
cracking, crumbling,
feared
the next windy word
would blow me away.
My madness
mumbling
translucent
traces of God.

No arrogance
would dare
attempt
shake Her
from the tip of my tongue
while She teases me
with deep
silent
kisses.

-Jack Cross

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