Light currents persuade weeds

When our eyes meet, can he know how we bleed, we yearn, we grow? We wildflowers, we algae, rapturefully leaning at the moon (ever-so-slightly dancing) fingertips faces bright with celestiality we, raw and wet and fruitfull whatever touch hurts we bruised models whatever touch bruises love bite we flutter (soaking ever-so-slowly in the white hot ice) leaning rapt into distant pearl eyes he is our skin's legend, story, song