His Name Was Innocence

I had dreams, sometimes About him always about glass streams I used to love his company Or the promise of it, In my dreams. Then my eyelids spread apart And they stroked blissful clouds As he made me mumble and Sigh through my words And blow bubbles of nonsense into the dense air While lying in his arms On his chest In his mother’s bed Cradling my heart Caressing my body With his hand between my thighs Rubbing, exploring, sinfully Touching me And the throat filling silence And the sound of his mouth And the expulsion of breath And the symphony in his chest And my love echoing through my body With his hand between my thighs And the electricity in my fingernails And my limp, clenched, guilty, pleasure bond body Anticipating The exploration of his hand Between my thighs Before then Before we were there, or I was there, or he was there Holding me Closer, His hand rhythmically Slithering up my thigh Allowing me to taste the darkened fruit of paradise On his mother’s bed (and my wonder if I was dreaming) no before then I can only remember Innocence.