Crystal beads cascade, drained
through the freshly bleached porcelain.
I expunging the sweet souvenirs of our sleepless night.
Sober from the water and the whirring extracting fan,
Here I dry, stood, stuck at you.
no longer clouded in ecstasy.
We dance flicking invites and excuses
days stepping forward and rear,
forte e piano.
In our immediacy we erupted
to spill but sparks upon damp wood.
A trudge toward a desirable goal .
I see you only
within digital screens,
devoid of an intimacy once tasted
And I wonder, to what precisely did I grasp?
*****
Link to Part 1:
J.C. FitzDerick 