I have past my perfect years, I am so insanely sobered by your face.
I know that it is not the thing that will ravage me.
Oh, to be beautiful and wonderous...
at the mercy of a lover,
feeling like centuries of seduction are falling down around me.
Skin made up of embers and ivory.
I want to remain here,
somber in your bed on Sunday.
The tragic remains of a rapturousnight.
Untamed, forgive me not.
I am heavenly here not there,
and only seen as graceful standing naked before you,
chanting for your kiss, praying for absolution.
Content to scrape at your feet.
To purge my skin on a honeysuckle morning.
Without doubt or shame flooding from my lips,
the quiet is absolute.
I have banished reality from this bell jar.
I keep you to myself.
Delicate and complicated... shhh
...stubborn secrets of the ghost,
that is my heart. Stop.
(I refuse to be jaded by the sudden absence of you.)