James Anderson Poet
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Mr. Rochester's Paramour
O' this heart of mine
how it breathes yours,
although it whines unrepaired
as needs to it be,
pulsing epiphanic sighs
through perceptions screaming deafness.
I witness love in the four-corned roundness of your eyes
a view that treads yearning pearls
deeper into this souls aching slumber
yet I cannot anoint your lips,
as much as this mouth curls the thought of you
I kiss corners in the empty corridors of my brokenness.
You betroth proclamations as free as the twelve winds
I ride the swirl between sex and religion,
nailing morality to my ...