To Much Love


Underneath plush cover of cotton.

A healing hand in repose.

As if, a wanting to be disposed.

 

I regard too much, while grasping the outstretched sleeping gesture.

I ponder,

‘too much love!’

However,

between the warming waves.

There is an oft instinct to fit that love with a masking glove.

Trials and tribulations sometimes, come like thieves to memories in the dusky air.

Too much of love, has come, handle with care.

 

How easy it is for a closeted romantic…

To question beyond the here and now.

Yet,

beyond the walls of sleep.

I do not let go.

Do not let go…the healing hand of love.

A conquest of my questionable foes.imageedit_113_9461982436

 

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