Listen, lover. Forget the crypts, the creaking doors,the capes that billow like a stagehand’s cheap effect.Our darkness is a finer thing, a vintage pouredfrom older casks. It’s in the intellect we’ve kept,the taste for beauty that the hurried sun forgets.We are the patrons of th...
Read MoreThe night was not silk, but ordinary cotton—A twin-size sheet, the faint smell of rain,A dorm-room lamp with a crooked switchDimming the world to just our skin.You were not a god, but a boyWith a nervous laugh caught in your throat,And I was not a poem, but a girlFumbling with the algebra o...
Read MoreThe air is thick with unspent rain,the scent of skin, a sweet, slow stain.A silent pact the night has made,beneath the weight of light betrayed.Your gaze, a question, finds my own,a territory not yet known.A fingertip, a trace, a line,from wrist to elbow, slow design.A map of heat, a whispered pl...
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