Sated,
sometimes full,
tempestuous and raw; we shone,
howling at the moon (and one another).
Prettier with
candlelight and my reflection in your eyes,
you held me tight,
I threw back my head and screamed your name--
but I never meant it
until you walked away;
I never loved you more
than when your back was turned.
Now breathing in
early morning air and ash,
sifting through yesterday
with lyrics and a fine-toothed comb--
trying to remember
if you were ever beautiful,
other than metaphorically.