Immortal Touch Loves skin paper-thin like porcelain deep rising eyes draped in a sadness An immortal touch a caress through a dream insisting upon my love Drawing in near conceived of dust illusions of the unreal a blur in the vacant night A ghost of what once was haunted by you
I enjoy the seperation of the two. I think the first half is the skin of love. It's thin, veiled and pulling. It's a touch that goes through your body and dreams. And love is a two way street. The second half is what of love. The thinness and emptiness of the absence. It's a stark reminder of your ownself, but no longer is you. Well written.