Enveloped in cotton I fidget
revolving in my sheets,
stabs of light piercing the venetian blinds.
Bemused by last night’s journey home.
My core nauseous
from spent pleasure
and shame
from the night before.
I was there,
in full force.
Regaling unfamiliar ears
with the same stories.
The sun shifts it’s glow,
it’s shine a moody amber,
casting shadows under the awning.
The air grows cold and clear
while we exclaim novel raison d’êtres,
new perspectives,
planning passionately dreams of a life possible,
our minds filled with ill informed hope.
The wind whispers away
her arabica secrets.
Within her body my cure, elegant
corseted in bone china.
She holds my personality’s fix,
to vivid life,
removed from days mundane realism.
In her embracing air I’m adrift,
attention swayed
by the hips of passing others,
punctuated by sips
of scolding salvation.
Our time dims twilight to our birth,
as we forecast a spring never-ending,
our blossom forever in bloom.
We share optimistic lies,
wishing on an unlikely future.
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Temptations echo
as Tupac ruminates
on clandestine longing.
My eyes listing
across your profile’s face.
Our departure long formed,
an ocean of years between us.
The first drop spilling
a premature end
to a former friend.
On your face I see
your successes, exciting and contemporary;
and my heart outlines a jealous love.
With my heart my weapon,
I compete for yours.
My opponent equally equipped,
though seemingly more adept.
I dived in bed,
A brief respite before I leave.
For a moment I smelt you;
Your scent in my sheets,
I was happy.
I was with you.
Eyes deep
lashes beckoning.
A visage an intriguing exotic.
Hair, strands of long earthen silk,
tumbling carefree.
Her presence is rich and warm,
blooming conversations
of all sweet and sensitive.
She speaks in hushed rooms
between sips of jasmine tea,
listening.
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J.C. FitzDerick 