Time

Neon paints the garish room

Pulsating flashes of red and green

Painting your flesh as you stand at the window

Watching the street below as if a guardian.

Your breasts rise and fall with anguished gasps

Sweat beads glisten against the light

Your eyes still mourn as if in bewilderment.

Because we have loved well.

 

Our musk dwells heavy upon the air

Sheets array and wonderfully damp

From passion and pleasures

Created from the exploration of touch

While surrendering to ourselves.

You are artist-perfect standing there

Nothing lacking, nothing exaggerated

If I were God, I would have created you as you are.

 

Your face is filled with questions

And you fear the circle of my arms

But I move to you and draw you in

Like quicksand to press against me.

We will not speak of love tonight

Time is not our friend or companion

So I will seek refuge within you

As clock hands turn and leaves turn brown

 

Reviews

[Samuel Pennell]

"If I were God, I would have created you as you are."

Fantastic! The greatest line of the poem. This almost sounds like "Last Tango in Paris" in the form of a poem.

[DrD]

Thank you for your visit. I truly appreciate your comments.