the shape of true
beauty in
skin–
the rest of you stays
hidden,
and though i breathe
love through
each cell,
not sure you
hear
me
purr
like kittens.
shadow play
eased you down
in satin,
drape me in ruby
ribbons,
sunk into plushest
cushions
and never broke
our kiss.
each key on
her piano
holds mystery
waiting to be played
and i’m pleased
to sit and
listen,
in surrender to
the game.
i lit a match to
see you
better
under
moonlight,
you turned
away
as if the flash
was too
bright–
as though i
blinded
night.
fallen angel,
i don’t scorn
you
for wanting more than
what was
yours-
for trudging down
those stairs,
but am concerned
now that it’s
changed
your
loyalty
to playing fair.
to look back,
i’d catch but traces
of faces fading
to these
eyes,
forward i see
the next
step,
to a less than
easy climb.
i’m woken..
while
she’s sleeping-
thus unknowing of
my fears,
love turns over
to see me
staring,
and starts snoring
in my ear.
sorrow holds her
heartstrings..
and
he tugs
like they’re
unbreakable things,
they’ve got so
little give,
but she
has
a fighter’s
will to
live
she stares
from her painting,
like no one sees her
but me-
the lonely old
voyeur..
gazing up from
bent knee.
wrote an old fashioned
letter,
with an old pen from
the drawer,
to an old friend
from times
before–
we left home
for more.
hands in the garden 
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