Pulseless Stars: Touchless Love

I thirst the music, and muse the joy, and surrender—while

Navigating. Hear the guitar: it echoes summer rain; and such

Beauty; and such painful joy. The pain is loss: the joy is love;

And a storm revs the psyche. I’m alone the cave; and I ponder

A magnet: an electric furnace; and what feeling—a warm

Sensation; and what love—to never touch; and thus, an ideal;

And thus, slight torture; and thus, felt joy. The earth is drenched;

And we sit and talk: certain to catch a cold. Our eyes—

Intoxicated: our arms chained: our minds screaming: affection;

And every verse, the curse of souls; and every night, the sky

Hurts; and thus the rain. Cry—my brilliant wound; and sing—

The pulseless stars; for love is touchless; but such art; and art

Speaks—the shrill of souls; and thus the pores, bleeding love;

And thus the art, proud to die.