Alcohol, narcotics and prayers flavour the falling of night.
Our talk of games a game too, of a sort,
smirking dance swirling inwards,
skilled balance and mirroring of feet's skittish friction.
Your hair descends in waves I long to twirl and surf.
Your soul glows warm and woozy in my orbit.
Your pouty lips and gleaming bright eyes beckon
to realms purely sumptuous and light,
full of intangible glows and stampeding butterflies.
As our lips meet, sweet confidence decimates regrets
that could have been, grasped like tattered rags
by those too blind or quivering to act.
I hold you close, your charms now tangible, in grasp,
your lilting laughs and deftly wicked winks pepper the wind,
gusting across rusty heartstrings,
stirring from slumber groggy half-dreaming sentiment.
I feel a melting, melding into intimacies unmapped.
Yet each moment of contact must end.
Banter and power remain,
and yet I long again for that glowing coal of you, you,
a true you to warm tingling fingertips,
that secret soulful sphere of self you keep so safe, so guarded,
yet shines through like a jewel in your smile.