The flow...

Holding on to time like water slipping through my hands. What I cannot seem to catch evaporates again n again. N all I'm trying to do is to see if luv truly exists. But like the rain it comes n goes with every drip. As different storms roll through with variables of chaos along the way. Bringing depths with altering meanings to slide down the face. From the drowning to the swim of the backstroke the floating will always be. It's insane to stay in one place for very long other than in ones own dreams. For one cannot luv a frozen stiff. Nor melt the solid form of an icy heart for anything more than a quench of the lips. N even that leaves the body like years running their coarse. The touch dries out in dehydrated palms wanting the moisturize the grin as emotions in between partners create a reason to explore. To taste each drop of sweat so the flavor of another is known. All prior to the thirst returning to the tongue needing a down pour of hope...