Yearning

he's here by chris hall lunasonline

All alone in the

big brass bed

you wait.

 

You’re late, my love!

 

Your body craves,

shivers, aches

with unfulfilled desires.

 

Where are you, my love?

 

A door bangs

A shutter creaks

He has come.

 

You are the moon

He is the night

You shine in his darkness

 

Engulfed by his touch,

slave to the rhythm

of his dance.

 

Later, in the empty bed

You wonder:

Was he really here?

 

Two ruby red droplets

on your pillow.

The legacy of his love.

 

 

4 thoughts on “Yearning

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