On the Skin

What is half-done?
If there is death,
which makes things run
but not all is marked in destiny.
In the runs on the skin
there is Infinities
look! nuzzled against your tender side  
I chase down words,
forms behind a pale gaze.
Your eyes hide inside
Principles, that will not wilt upon a kiss
But are heavy, and solid,
and will sink.

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