My wife and I are about to celebrate our
Second wedding anniversary.
We have planned a dinner at our favorite
Italian restaurant in town where I know,
She will order the lamb lasagna,
And I the carbonara, seemingly set in our
Ways of what we like.
Still what I and she loves, is that strange feeling,
An accompaniment that is compulsive
And stores inside a palpitating chamber,
Fireworks that burns long and steady.
Every time, that feeling is fired, you see a skyline
That absolves you from the harsh realities
And transforms you to a greater good
Unproven by math. We are only leaches
Thinning blood and shooting each other a vitality
That never seems to run short.
And the two of us, we are all about,
The deft placement of a four-letter word
On the many sized tongues of our body
From where beautiful outreach begins.
