Circle within circle

Leeway north of the wind

Intercostal access to the core

Too much leeway

Sleepless rosary of stars

Immobile latitude

Pellicle of pearly fog

Such roaring canticles

Ringing clearly as morning bells

Shortness of exhaled breath

Strands of hair loitering near your face

Heaving respirations of the night

Nigh your shoulder

Cooling down the heat of debate

Acts of love like bottles thrown at the blue

With desperate foreboding messages

Smashing into rain

Into speechless clouds

Chronosensitivity of ideas

Uncipherable sentiments

Light weighing only the impetus of its speed

Trickling down your throat

On a mother-of-pearl morning

Through your bedroom window

Where we still embrace

On the threshold to good or evil

Shattered pieces of self everywhere.