It's the month of crescent moons and burgundy flamed candles. Of burning sage and twinkling hooded lights flickering in frosted windows. Of icy mornings with scarves wrapped beneath pink noses and wet lashes. Of lonely evergreens and sleigh bells and a distant howl in the wind.

she was the kind
of pretty that you didn't
really notice at first
but once you saw her in the middle of the night
with messy hair and tired
eyes and tears dancing across
her cheeks and dripping
onto her mouth you
would want nothing more
than to kiss them away

there is a reason that mouths close & and ears don't

In the still of the night
I am drawn to her side
like a moth to flame

As my hand slowly
moves over the silken
contours of her body
she turns to me
lips searching for
mine in the dark

she pushes urgently
up into my hand
with her body as if
begging for more

Lips and fingers
feed her desires
until waves of
pleasure course
through her and
set ablaze her
want and need
for more.

mkt

Is this what dying feels like?
To the early mornings, puffy eyes, tear stained cheeks, and hiding myself under the sheer linens. My vision is blurred as pain clouds my eyes. No words come out of my chapped mouth. Dead silence. No food. No sleep.
All you can do is pray and take it.