soft, sweet slumber -
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oh, You ...
you found me again
unveiled amid the bosom of my dreams -
my consciousness peeled back
and flayed
tabled in a twilight mist
for the memories of you to feast upon
drowning in the fathoms of your gaze
your scent ?
pouring its alert fascination
into my marrow
the tang of your pulpy tongue
the sweet confection of your skin, resplendent
(and the warm, wild places beneath it) -
vessels and walls and fair, tepid flesh
your intent within it all -
to conduct me
while allowing me the sway?
to exploit my exploitation of the moments -
letting me control your control of me
coy, seductive smile on your face
perfecting your line and movements
as a ballerina should …
it is all still there
as if the years since were phantoms
gone with a breath of irresolute regret …
and you inhabit me now as then
as EVER
preying on my sleep-time meanderings
without mercy, without bridle?
without an ounce of benevolence or pity …
oh, You -
no other vexes me
so completely
so purely
no one pervades my
nettled dreams as you do
nor will anyone -
ever …
morning always comes too soon, blushing
and much, much too bright
for the love that we both swore eternity to -
that we knew with all conviction
to be as sure as starlight
as dire as death itself
and as deep as the sea of suns
is now nothing but a
damp blemish ...
on my pillow.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden | Year Posted 2018
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