bound

fever that folds down
the curves of her spine
bending like satin
on waves of sahara sands
dripping downwards
in depths of concave
curves pressing
up to lines curling
under the crisp white
sheet leaving dusts
of graphite swirls
sliding over
masking the
plunder of my will


bound by untouched
dreams which catch
on memory ends
deaths of sounds unheard
burning from feelings of
hatred yet to surface
from yearnings that
have not yet begun