To witness two lovers is a spectacle for the gods.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
lovers

 

Taut
Lovers grow like ivy vines

Crawling up spines, ‘round bellies
And whisper into each other’s
Mouths, quiet breath and gentle
Tongues lest the cords snap and
Suspension break, but they sing
Sweetly and play softly in the salon,
A private symphony.

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