After the Gloam

Weird Poetry

I felt your hand cupping the curve of my shoulder

And your kiss ghosting the crinkle on my brow

As I paced the frosted glistening ground

After the moon-stroked gloam

Of a late autumn Sunday morning.

I felt those pangs in my chest —

The ones that stop my breath,

And only let pass the ones that stab my lungs with exclamation points —

But I found sweeter air in the space

Where I could divine your form.

So I stepped into

It (your glorious Aether)

And gulped and gulped at the air until I could taste you in every pore of my earthbound body.

Sometimes to find you

All I have to do is step outside

Into the time

After the gloam

When the sun is snuggled up behind a duvet of woozy yellow haze,

And the trees silhouette the sky behind and beyond them.

Then I can feel your cupped hand on my curved shoulder

And your lips smiling into my crinkled (now smoother) brow.

~~~

❤👽

~~~

*** Well… Sweet Ch… ***

*** Shut the fuck up, Waldorf or Statler or whoever you are. Keep your quips to yourself. I don’t need any more self-flagellation today. I just want the peace of the gloaming and an angel. ***

*** Photo cred: Me ***

2 thoughts on “After the Gloam

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