4AM
The tides were low
as we sat on the boat,
beached far into the shore
and the susurrus of the sea at night
sighed at the woven tapestry
of a sky full of stars
twinkling in anticipation.
I sit in silence and drink her presence
Flames dancing in my eyes like those stars
sparks on the brink of desire
as her chest rises and falls to a syncopated beat
and I am once again consumed.
I was not
Dewy-eyed Tithonus, for whom the endless day
Yielded naught but the wretchedness of living
Nor sleep-filled Endymion
Esconced helplessly in a dream
No, I am awake
And she is here.
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
Saturday, September 20, 2014
Lilies for Enid: 3AM
3AM
In the fury of bedtime desolation
When for naught these dispassionate facades do fail to quell
The quiet distemper of the lonely night
And everything old is new again, even mistakes
Is this one of the nights when we die to feel alive?
The walls are silent, they listen
As the bedposts strain under the weight
Of gropes too awkward to mention
And syncopated groans
Rhythmic, pulsating in the darkness
Ripples like wrinkles on the bedsheet
Drenched blind with desire.
Our stares undress each other in the dark
And our naked souls, effulgent, rise like a newborn star
Plunging into the crisis of a pregnant universe
A mercurial Casanova
And spent, we breath heavily
In this vacuum.
We were supernovas that did not go gently into the good night
Exploding with pomp and splendor
In the fury of bedtime desolation
When for naught these dispassionate facades do fail to quell
The quiet distemper of the lonely night
And everything old is new again, even mistakes
Is this one of the nights when we die to feel alive?
The walls are silent, they listen
As the bedposts strain under the weight
Of gropes too awkward to mention
And syncopated groans
Rhythmic, pulsating in the darkness
Ripples like wrinkles on the bedsheet
Drenched blind with desire.
Our stares undress each other in the dark
And our naked souls, effulgent, rise like a newborn star
Plunging into the crisis of a pregnant universe
A mercurial Casanova
And spent, we breath heavily
In this vacuum.
We were supernovas that did not go gently into the good night
Exploding with pomp and splendor
Before bursting with the nonchalant finality
Of an autumn leaf
falling,
falling,
onto the ground
Of an autumn leaf
falling,
falling,
onto the ground
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