Others find pleasure

in success, words, deeds

and I should

I really should

try to sit at my desk and feel

glee.

Instead

when night falls

slow like slipping lingerie

I think of you

how your neck smells

the color of your cheeks when you feel

me inside you.

This, us, has always been

the lamp that burned

long into slinking dark

shooing away ghosts

or fears of meaninglessness

that hang incessant on soft periphery .

You, who are my alter

the perfume of church incense infused in your skin

you, who rub the lamp and beckon the genie.

Without you

I should slip into that hot bath, with that tall drink

a side-car to oblivion

and take the closing sharp against my wrists

for all the damnation we wrought

in our determining and losing and clambering

through nets of life, hardly worth the wade

were it not for you, and the bright ache of your smile.

There has only been one thing, that has made me feel pleasure

the feel of you beneath me

the awakening of shared breath

as we live, but only as one

only ever as one, or

vanquished, please, with

the coming of

dawn.

8 Replies to “The coming of dawn”

  1. This is such a beautifully descriptive poem from start to finish. It makes me miss being in love.

  2. Thank you so much dearest D for reading this and for always caring about what I write, which given your capacity for caring, fills me with hope

  3. Ah. I love that it does that but I wish love for you also.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.