Darkroom

Filtering through memories, you're watching tears 

falling desperately delicately on inky paper;

they disintegrate what was. 

And while darkness clouds,

tainted-red lights carve into my soul as 

florescent colour to the pitch black.

They burn bright in my mind.

At your touch, eyes rise, opening
unhesitantly. You come into focus,

sweet lights descending on your face

illuminating, defining lines

gently inching closer.

Your hand finds company,

naturally entwined,

lacing desire 

where time is but lost.