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Writer's pictureSimon Templar

Exhaling the Void




Time slows as the low-pressure breeze

Of your breath drifts gently across my face,

This lonely hour I am a man, adrift,

Dying in the empty void,

The universe beats on me calling for survival.


But now, lost in the rising hum

Of my heart, it escapes its cage,

Beating faster at the thought of your eyes,

Gazing on me with love,

Absorbing the child within me,

Who finds peace only in your presence.


Endless thoughts loop and entrap me—

It must be the way your eyes speak,

With a silent, persistent admiration

That pulls me back to a place of peace

I've never known on my journey.


They pierce my focus, render me speechless,

As I travel through the troubling torment

Of man and woman, their savage scars

Etched across my soul.

Generations of animal instincts,

Cruel and confining,

Lesser, reduced.


But in you lives a beauty, untouched by this world,

A beauty you share with me alone

In this lonely hour, this lonely life.

As the ship sinks I am lost

In the selfish void of empty purpose,

I find in you purpose and salvation.


You are my life, my soul, my love.

Undeserving as I am,

Of the beaming light you offer,

The depth of your love merging with me,

Lifting me beyond this flesh,

Beyond the filth of man,

In this late hour.


I am in love.

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