Last Love

I have lived and loved; I do so believe; in mind and in my heart, once in a while; that organ is not easy to deceive; the former so much simpler to beguile. Yet not so, living yes, the love not true; the morning glory dawns that I had seen before, I knew were pointless without you to lay beside, that haze of dew between us, breath slowing, soft lips twixt shoulder blades salt tasting, hands assaying softest curves.  Then, all too soon, it seems that time invades in truth, it is the mirror that observes not I; you smolder as the day we met I don’t believe we’ve loved enough, as yet.