Will I ever taste the early solstice?
the afternoon slumber
after our red laden kiss
that binded the barricades of your dark laden door.
lying. looking into slits of deadened trees
of orange leaves that
hid my touch
your whispers
our secrets.
Will I ever feel the solstice?
the late night heat.
dripping off of your heaving chest
unto my swollen breasts
as you hide your lies within me?
floundering. arms outstretched
as you clutch my tears
to save as salves
to ease your selfish pain.
numbing. the sound of thunderstorms
that promise
to come but never seem to keep.
Will I ever mend the days now lost?
realign the skyless streams of sunlight
that make my visions true
as we bask upon each revelation
your future, my home,
our equinox
without us?
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