Love is too much a black box
– fragments surge in and out again, changed, but
the alchemy which acts upon them cannot be known
unless the possessor of the box gently teases apart its mechanism
to expose their gaze to his own insides
– to see how and why they light up and throb to his lover’s touch
– what ignites in thought and sensation,
what constructs are born?
Unique to her stimulus
projected forward hand in hand to create a world just for them, with its own physics
and theoretical foundation upon which their architecture is built and cause and effect
is discernible only to them, are only for them
to explore with touch and caresses and words and breath.

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