ŕ l’amour de ma vie


we never said
“maybe”
to endearment
as far as words go,

often touching
in subtle corners of the body,

often breathing the breath
and savoring the saliva of the other
in those midnight hours

forcing the clock to move that much slower,
to stretch this pale evening to its
fullest.

how delightful was the rain,
making the alleys seem
darker and more passionate without
the moon overhead,

soaking the hair

you let fall down around your shoulders,
playing the part of a tease,

the temptress of all things mischievous.

lips and tongues and hands
generating a rhythm with the pit-patter
of raindrops against
the gutter,

squeezing, however gently

of urgent needs and physical inadvertence.
blood boiling from within the flesh,
heart overworked, pumping feverishly
nerves exploding

make no sound whatsoever,

their silence flowing under the streetlamps; so patient,
these things i remember,

this world of charm meant nothing without our universe of want.

and it’s partly true,
to say that
we never said
“never”
to pomp and circumstance,

or for that matter,
sacrifice.

how many moments has it been love,
i can’t help but to confess that the

novelty of it was fleeting.

that dress is still elegant, those
lips still rosy and stylish
nothing about you has changed since the first touch.

only time shifts
in your wake, and
as you wander out the door,

(involuntary reflex)

my heart turns my head around for
one last glance.




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