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GREY HOURS
The grey hours.
Previously haunted by
old lovers and night-terrors
reserved now for
hushed voices and a heated embrace.
When all else fades away
and reality narrows
to hands and mouth
and parallel heartbeats.
Where limbs tangle
desperate yet tender
pieces she thought discarded
fall into place.
In the grey hours
between sleep and wake
she finds herself
reassembled.
STEALING TIME
Every second snatched,
Each shared glance
And smile exchanged,
Precious hours coveted,
All at once endless
And never long enough,
This is the time they steal.
Moments stitched together
In her patchwork memory,
Embellished by him
When her recollection fails
And the edges fray.
They darn, alter and pull a positive
Spin to the threads they have.
A gossamer thing,
Delicate as cigarette smoke,
Warm as whiskey going down,
Ever expanding to envelop them
In their perfect affection.
Faultless as a lover’s touch
Is the time they steal.
SPLIT PERSONALITY
Prior neglect has left
A speck of rot
That wanes and festers
With wavering moods
Split personality
Duplicity
Most days she falls freely
Arms outstretched
To embrace fate
Stuffs her morals into a box
In between sheets of
Silliness and romantic verse
When the bubble breaks
Surface tension overstretched
She retreats
Compacting herself
Into a ball of worry
Tears and poisoned tongue
She hides her uncertainty behind
Exuberance and elaborate fantasy
A ramshackle house for two
With an open fire warming
Rooms that await their company
Even though she knows she’s loved
Adoration reflected a thousand fold
She still wonders if her heart
Can keep beating this rhythm
Or if she’s merely beating a dead horse