Friday, 16 November 2012

The Twilight Dream

    
No pretty words
this barely-morning,
will right how wrong it feels,
to wake,
and know myself alone;
delicious flavours of you
still pepper
my tongue,
and your breath lays softly in my bones.
   
Saturated,
in last night's laughter;
in whispers, 
those burning looks and words,
with silent desires,
almost trusted,
almost told,
I turn and seek you
in the twilight peace.
    
Barely kiss me, half-asleep,
a searching hand 
comes tracing
and caressing release;
but blind am I now 
that you might see,
and I sorely feel,
every sacrifice,
I make 
to protect,
tonight.
   
All pleasure in giving feels eternally right,
and I am
exactly, 
where in truth,
I want to be,
...as eyes wide shut,
I taste you again...
and in ghost-arms, give in to my dream. 
   

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