Late night dreaming
About poisonous passion
And a touch enough
to pierce the surface of the skin
Words that once said,
Linger, waiting to be remembered
or
said again
Eyes softer than pillows
And a voice enough
to render a being unconscious
And recuperate it again
A touch that can wake a wild fire
And blow out the flame
At the same time
a breath, like a gust of wind on a winters morning
Or a light breeze on a mid-Summers day
A twilight
As time leans closer and closer into the dark of night
A door weak enough to let something in
But behind it, a presence that once felt makes one never want to leave again
A beautiful trap
holding in the palm of its frail hand the tamest wild waters
Be wary of that late night dream,
where all, is anything but what it seems
where all, is anything but what it seems