Across the Room
Across the room, harsh moonlight flares
like a blister inside your eyes…
those gazes piercing into my forbidden secrets
and inadequacies, numb —
holding me captive among lackluster stars
that prowl on ashes of confession,
an untold reparation wrought by pride:
Candles burn while I lean motionless
In glum of evening, this evening when truth
Finds us questioning ardor’s devotion --
Until my voice lilts to stir a moment of grace ,
of mercy : I peer into those eyes quietly, slowly
knowing moonlight still flares across the room.
Brian Strand's Ultimate February 2019 Contest
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2019
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