Sometimes
As I entered, she was already speaking.
"But I opened my eyes, yours were
closed like a sleeping child's.
The movement of your lips proved otherwise.
My heart caught up in my throat,
it was sublime."
I couldn't stay here, weak knees
locked legs, propelled me out the door
that shut silently behind me.
Inside dark hallway, my shaky
legs gaining confidence.
Myriad doors open at my passage.
Their lights briefly caress my face,
stubbornly I move on.
As all things must this hall ends.
And I stand silently cursing my foolish soul.
The door before me opens grudgingly
as sigh passes, cross threshold.
In this room, spare décor
bearing the effects of entropy
in a thin divide of dust.
I am not alone.
My eye's reveal nothing.
Yet my skin flushes, my body
filled with the intoxicating scent
of your neck that summer.
My mind calls to flee,
as the dust resettles around
my seated form. My hand
absently sweeps clear
a spot beside me. I gaze to my right,
and I see her face again,
her rose hewn lips silently
form, "I trust you."
The words still make me cringe;
however, could you place
value where I myself do not?
Copyright © Phillip Ortman | Year Posted 2008
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