Watching you turn away
in the early dark
the bare flesh of your back
as you depart, moonlight
reflecting on your skin
shining forlornly
like a holy omen
beyond my grip
as if I’m in a
dream state, or the space
between sleep and when I
wake. Mysterious.
Ambiguous. Sharp yet tender.
Tell me where your love goes.
Don’t change the weather.

I long to touch you, but not to
gain. You know that I would
hate to taint you with
expectation. There is no
conversation that could explain
why I feel like this. Is that
fate?

Bittersweet ache. Summer fever.

Caught in a delicate
frenzy of love delirium.
I’m believing in something I
can’t see. You disarm so easily.

I yearn to give you all of me.
I can give you honesty.
I won’t erase the traces of us,
unless you say this isn’t love.

Look at me
like it’s the last
time.
Remember me this way
in your mind.
Godsend. A prophetic kind of pain.
You’re going to matter to me
and I won’t forget your name.
Your love is interwoven
into my veins
like gold.
My cross to carry, my secret to hold.