Drip drip drip,
My love slides between your lips.
Sweet honey,
Your hands, soft on my hips.
Don’t waste it,
My mom would tell me not to waste it.
Hazy in your love,
Do you like the taste of it?
Entangled,
Your skin with drops of cold night dew.
A whisper to myself
I won’t tell you but, I like the taste of you

With hidden hands,
the curtain clung to the wall
and cascaded like a waterfall
down to the floor.

Smothering the window
and draping an old side table,
rendering it derelict
- a lifeless silhouette.

Quarter way down from the ceiling,
the curtain parted just a sliver.
Allowing a lone ray to visit between
ambling clouds.

•••

One on the outside can’t fully see
the darkened workings
of a confined mind.

I, on the inside...
Can’t see past the cloth
fastened stubborn
over my weary eyes.