Long after you,

when your scent had stopped staining my sheets
and her holy shadow dissolved from my shoulders,
I saw you by the bus stop on Noorinan Street.

Time washed my age from memory
and the world swept over the sun twice
but I could recall your face for many more centuries.

"Old friend, it's been too long."
So I take in your hand and
unfurl these fingers, retrace those footsteps.
"Come back to mine." And
your smile kissed your eyes like
how you used to look at me
with my head between your thighs,  
my knees dug deep into the soil and all too willingly;
almost naively drowning in your sweet sermons.

Pass five stops, up fifteen steps and seal the exit.
You chuckle at each old friend;

       the sound like sunlight
         glistening,
    fell and folded,
        slow
          on my skin.

This night; there is time
and there is light.

My my,
for now I shall devour
this soft skin, that sharp hip, those blood red lips
My mouth full from prayer
you look down - "Were you happy without me?"
An iron kiss to the breastbone - I breathe; "Yes."

From above
she spewed halo-gold onto my shoulders,
the taste acerbic through salted sweat,
the blaze a-burning bright reminder of why you left

    but I still love you nonetheless.

You place one hand in mine, your other;
preoccupied

Your hand held onto hers,
my hand held onto yours
and nothing more

Long after you,