Years Of Desire-
We were born on the bottom of the ocean.
I lick your neck and still taste the algae.
We rise from bed and the sheets are white with salt.
We laugh too much, even when we’re tragic.
We keep limestone in our pockets.
We remind each other of old chants we wrecked ships to.
We grow bored of human desires.
We are made of something older and sharper.
We are electricity and myth.
We’re not carbon..
Let them crash against our dark rock elbows