on heads on hearts
on beds
apart
in the death
are the catacombs
and the dark
where spirits lay
to find your soul
your mate
to be taken
from this place
on chests
resting softly
hands touching
so far apart
and knowing
the ways of differing arts
on mending
your days
a pillar of soft dust
in a thrilling display
to capture
and corner
and savor her ways
from lust
and longing
the fragile one fraying
on knees
and bended
before her touch
to wonder
not knowing
what there
lies beneath
a canopy of stars
to cradle and swoon
beneath her arms
clutching and bare
so it should be
on minds on matters
this feeling of freedom
in windows that shatter
and when that day comes
a vision in tatters
you will not be alone
but in the arms of strangers
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 7/8/12
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