Magic Number

by Christos Polydorou

I am everything in your hands,
and when you kiss me,
I make sense,
I the dense,
I the faraway and the too
in your face.

This is dangerous.
I love love,
but your flesh was so warm,
it was so peacefully warm,
and when you kissed me,
I made sense.
Through my body
my body was freed

from all your shoulds
and my supposed tos.
I was all finger tips
and toes
and pulse
and power :
broken down
so I could examine
the parts,
the most important
of which
is the heart.

Don’t leave me now.
Don’t grieve me yet.
Let me stay a while,
with the two of you.
As in trees,
I fell in love
with a couple
and a couple
fell in love with me.
Three
is the magic number.
If we love love
let it change us
as it lets us change it
if we let ourselves
change love
in summer16.
You know what I mean.
Love’s serene tepidness
heated up,
maybe even boiled.

Advertisements