- Non-Erotic Poetry
- The Hanged Man (tarot)
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Drifting in an endless glow;
the dance, your eyes,
the taste of your skin and
words not said aloud.
Attar clings to dry roses
as memories of your perfume
cling to my senses
or, asif a phantom limb:
forever gone but always there.
With eyes closed,
The Kiss (Gustav Klimt)
shimmers in my sight and soul.
Still, against my face,
I feel your hair like warm, perfumed silk.
Finally, sleep cedes a grudging balm,
dreams reign for what seems mere moments...
and hope slowly awakens with the dawn.
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