love, poetry, women

Twilight and Faith

Quiet rituals

Where I close the door

Let go

I am a beast

Of purpose,

But such control

Warrants cessation

So I let it come,

Remain open to it,

Not from self pity,

But it has the quality of

Twilight and faith

To it,

I miss the wine of your lips,

The drug of your skin,

The delight of your surrender,

I am made operatic by it

In private,

But by day,

I put the armour on again,

It is not an exit strategy,

But a prayer, a meditation,

Onwards into sleep now

(I miss you)

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