There was never a war
Between our loves
My poetry of
The hands
The touch
Their poetry of
The lips
The eyes
Paintings
We grew
Attuned
Slowly
Like the tides
We never fight
In love only
We hurt
Sometimes.
There was never a war
Between our loves
We were always
Slightly different shades
Of family
Though we might dream
Of a slightly different
Tenderness
There was never a war
Between their touch and my touch
Between their lips and my lips
Between their care and my care
We go along
Like the river and the ground
Paintings
As weird as it might seem
There was never a war
Between our loves.
Les Abrités 