The Remove
The night is on edge
with a rustle
in the shadows
of the shadows
of leaves.
And as you cast
your own silhouette
beneath the lonely
streetlamp,
you can’t help
but to reflect
on the reflection
of who you were
when you, too, had
something to lose.
As much as you try
not to, you feel
yourself
a bit smug
in your freedom,
your lack of longing,
your inability to cling
to any fleeting moment
as you fade
into the darkness
where nothing lurks
but the figments
of someone else’s
imagination.
Limerence
Older now,
I know well
the failings
of the flesh,
the way
rapture
devolves
into
disillusionment;
yet, the hunger
within me
remains
rapacious,
my thirst
as unquenchable
as the thirst for
what I can only
articulate
as the afterglow
of an afterlife.
So, I bide my time,
making sure
to forget
what I dare know
of hair, skin, teeth,
and tongue
in order
to surrender
to the nightbreeze
and, with the subtlest
brushstrokes,
draw a bit of blood
from the moon.
Sleep Well
We leave our bodies
together
on this swath of illusion,
a turned-down bed
within the realm
of perceived
time and space,
to venture off alone
within a dreamscape
from which
there are no guarantees
we’ll return.
Yet, night after night,
you place a tender kiss
upon my lips
and let
me
go,
secure in the promise
of morning.
Kelly Moyer - can often be found wandering the mountains of North Carolina, where she resides with her husband and two philosopher kittens, Simone and Jean-Paul.
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