Pleasure
we sit inside a room of light
not bright, but just enough tonight
to keep the air from sleep
no story tries to take its place
no need to hurry or erase
what silence wants to keep
outside, the city moves away
a long repeated kind of day
that never learns to stay
inside, a glass, a hand, a breath
a small defiance against death
that does not need to mend
pleasure is not a final word
it is the pause where nothing’s heard
and still we are unseen
it does not rise, it does not fall
it does not ask for more at all
it simply stays a while
and when it leaves, it leaves no trace
no sign, no proof along the way
only a quiet smile
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