A new decade of musings from poetry to what inspires; casting words like seed worldwide.
|Let This Be The Last Regret
I button my collared shirt on the edge of your sunrise bed
in my vision
in my soul captured
with a racing heart.
I spy a horizon out your glass where prospects are rays
angling for anything in this room
we once shared in darkness,
glowing before the orb could radiate us,
wondering what next.
Dare we swim the sublime shine?
Do you think me more than pressed slacks removed,
folded, on side table near
neatly arranged pillows,
discarded one night --
beyond comfort of your high thread counts?
The smell from iron skillet in kitchen blazing
could encourage a weak heart to bite an offering.
Fragrance of your heavy perfume, rising
from discarded garments, blocks
these tender senses stirring, packing up
an ending scene, wondering --
where I parked, and how drunk
to forget, and why need your flesh
so close on a fuzzy night?
Risked my love just a little too much.
The last shoe found, heeled for its walk to your door,
imagine held for your one regret still assessing
security, acquisition, of perfect acceptance,
while slotting those beads like Braille upon my neck,
when your small pet brushes my pant leg.