Attic

The ecstasy of your dream surrounds me.
The illumination you provide reminds me of what light I've seen.
But the constancy of your thought around me makes me long for whatever's in between.
The desire of your body keeps me guessing.
The skin of your fingers on the skin of my neck, as below that skin I shake.
But when that touch is gone, life is so depressing for it reminds me of the love that you and I will never make.
The remorse you pretend to feel I know is fake.
It boils down below inside as if you stir it every minute.
So I’ve come to consider you and I together one mistake, a human error boxed up with your deceit and lies within it.
Will I stumble across it in this attic a few years from now?
Will the dust be wiped, as I ransack through its contents in the dimmest light?
Will I find some peace to close this box again on you somehow, leaving what remains as I wonder where you are that night?