Not so...
This layer speaks only of its
pressing moment.
Your fingers tell one story.
My lips holding the weight of
your caress...
Tell another.
There is completeness only on the
line we share in traveled
contact.
And every layer is a truth revealed in
the fullness of a moment.
Yet my lips whisper..."not so, not
so..." As they taste the gravity
of your fingers.
There is no truth, there is no
story and there are no
layers.
There is only the suchness of
your caress...
And the memories that fall
later.
Love,
Eric
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