poetry
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It’s a paradox, really –that in trying to give you room to breathe,I took the breath from my own lungs And perhaps that is the cruelest part –you are my air Between the Lines © 2026
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I will wait as dusk waits for the slow surrender of the sun,as winter aches beneath the skin for spring I will remain like earth beneath your bare feet,softly receiving every part of you,tracing the contours of your becoming withquiet, unwavering devotion I will love beyond the final breath leaving my body,only to love you…
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Aching for her sun between the sheets of morning – dreaming night will end Between the Lines © 2026
Between the Lines 