Monday, March 7, 2011

Atlantic

Cold air and dark night wrap around our silhouette.

Winter wave’s move back and forth,

back and forth,

wet, against the hard-packed-January sand.

Tears, that chill razor sharp, drop, unsalted against your hand.

We have been here before.

Inside this crime, unmasked.

It is time to question love and God, but, neither of us asks.

A mouth opens.

Yours or mine? I can not tell

Breathe turns misty white, a voiceless frozen fog that longs to yell.

Dusk stained faces lost in a kiss.

So familiar and forbidden you taste to me.

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