[december.31.2007.??:??]


our breaths are taken to the
rhythm of the soft beats of our
hearts as they play on the drum born of our silence
as my limp limbs cradle your calm body
and through the very contact our souls make,
the physical becomes obsolete because as naked
our truth may lie in a bed soiled with sin,
for void of fallace,
our souls so quietly mate
as it is you're my soulmate.