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 ***