If the lines of her-
Her Exquisite body
Her diamond eyes
Her perfect curves,
Her ravishing lips
With their mysterious smile,
Were sketched by some god,
They were drawn in ink,
Smooth and unwavering,
For there was no doubt,
No hesitation
In the hand that framed her,
Created her form and design,
Inspired by the canvas
Of the night sky,
For in her, heavenly and
Fragile, beauty resided-
She was divine.

Why have you become every storm to me?
Each snowflake that graces an eyelash,
Each drop of rain?
Your glances, lightning that flashes across my grey horizon
Your sighs, the gentle wind that brings soft summer showers?

I don’t need to see the night sky
To envision our stars, I need only your eyes-
Your autumnal Eyes that speak
In the beautiful tongue that only we share-
I don’t need the perfect words from your lips
To know what you desire, what you burn for-
I need only the soft touch of your hand,
The brush of your lips on my skin
And I know what we are together.

We are what the night allows, my love
We exist in stolen secret moments,
Instances where ecstasy and sorrow
Intertwine like lovers under the cover of twilight
Stealing precious minutes for each other
In the space in which you are my everything-
And it is in you that I find solace in silence
It is in you that I love the longing.


With a mere touch, the world melts away
With a whisper, you break my heart
With a word, my soul sings out
With a kiss, you devastate me
And I am yours.

As the solstice approaches,
Its bitter sweet arrival
Heralding the advent of
The cold moon,
Singing brightly,
Embraced by its icy halo,
In the obsidian night,
A chorus of stars
Shimmers in a sky
That stays dark
one moment longer
Just for us, my love,
As the intoxicating
winter jasmine blossoms,
Awakened by the frost,
Bear witness to
Our perfect kiss tonight.

Some secrets I push down-
Let them drift away
Through the passing of the times,
Until those moments are lost
In the ether of neglect and distractions,
Their importance forgotten, dissolving
They become but brief muted images,
The ghosts of curling photographs
That rudely interrupt a placid dream
Or an old song-
Full of nostalgia,
But lacking context,
Have lost their meaning.

But some secrets I have stolen away-
Shielding them fiercely from the brutal inelegance
Of the grinding everyday-
Guarding them in their amber vaults,
Whose sentries, ever vigilant
Are immune to the erosion of years.

Those secrets-

The taste of your lips,
The curve of your throat,
The sigh of your voice,
The caress of your hands,

They continue to sing,
Vibrant and living,
In the space between.

These are the secrets I covet-
And I hang them like precious stars
In the night sky
-crystalline constellations,
Beacons that guide me to you-
Through my darkest of hours,
When I succumb to sleep
And close my eyes
And you are not with me.

I was wrong-
It’s not the darkest starless nights when
My longing for you is at its zenith,
When the empty world has gone quiet
And only the distant songs of lonely trains and traffic
Accompany me in my reveries of you and me
In a place away from the cruel touch of time-
Where only I can see the sweetness in your eyes
That makes me melt for you
every time my eyes meet yours-

It is in the very stillest part of dawn
When the first rays of sun crest the horizon
Splintering the eastern sky, erasing the nearest stars-
The only stars bold enough to stand defiant
Against the incessant city lights-
It is this ghostly light that I miss you most,
When your absence is most profound,
When my mind, unable to distract itself,
Is most acutely aware that you are not with me-
When my hands need your hands,
When my lips need your lips,
When my heart needs your heart,
When my soul needs your song.

For at least in the chill of night,
I might dream of you
And sometimes dreams,
while only ether, are enough.