~ Till the Very Last ~
Oh, how I wish to tap-open your heart,
Guide your lazy fingers to my life, to my past,
Make you pick just half handful of grit —
Piercing and turning mine into one sieve,
Then, veer your clouded fist to the one — ajar,
Lo! Now you open those closed fingers,
And, let the burning grit of my thin secrets,
Along with the cold sands of my long past,
Slide and glide into the free space — of —
Your open clumsy yet warmth oozing heart —
Without spilling or brimming, but kissing,
With a solemn promise, to last, till the last,
Ah, yes, Till the Very Last!
Whoever has painted this picture, I've no knowledge of the source, but loved it the moment I saw it. Intense, sensual, saying so much even without talking.