Gentle hands

My heart’s the like of powered turbines
Running glorious revolutions
Unlike the like
Of the broken rivers from the previous generation.

I feel butter-flies guide intentional paths
Down my chest grounds
I feel your butter-lines wrinkle my pains
Aging and and fading them
More like, shaping and making them
Stars and I know loving you is going to be easier.

Pound my heart with your spice
Set it on fire with your light
Drown me into that zone
Where safety is not a thing by other minds
And tongues
And plastic and vague emotions
Where safety is not an intuitive pick
Where safety
Is the assurance deep within the beats of our chest drums.

©Mustafa Khan A.

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