Peeking At Pleasures
He builds a haunted house for himself
warding away any feeble light
to seep into the rooms, welcomes night
as time creeps like a sluggish bludgeon.
He finds no joy chasing silk dresses
as they shimmer like butterfly wings
with skill he resists the temptation
to peek at pleasures in mock moonlight.
Emotions reside not on his face
complex or contradictory, they
are locked away in some sanctuary
far beneath the surface of his mind.
He nurses a hollow dread daybreak
will find him facing grim certainty
transcending over worse things that come
to prey on him, not to be undone.
@jjote 062921
Copyright © Josefina Costales | Year Posted 2021
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