The Hour Glass
The Hour Glass
Breathless moments are consumed and frustrated
By the denial and logic of the Hour-glass ,
Feelings of warmth and intimacy slowly and
Delicately evaporate into the uncompromising
Boredom of consciousness and light.
I await in silence for the sobering hand
Of reality to reach out, to seize my ecstasy
And turn my conscience inside out.
Will time succeed?, will my conscience plead?
The burning passion within my soul now
Extinguished by the paranoia reality brings
And to an end, my love, come all good things,
Until the next time? The next time.
I don’t know if I can wait that long from
The warmth and security of where I belong.
Images of you, of sweat-filled pores
Of how I laid you down upon a bed of boards
Four pillows deep and I was yours
And you were mine and nothing but nothing
Seemed to matter anymore except you and I.
Images of you, soft tender breasts
Nipples swelled and hardened as I caressed
The soft silky contours of your sensuous
Lily white flesh, your nakedness laughing,
Staring at my awkwardness.
Let’s divorce ourselves from the ever watchful eye of
The Hour-glass; let’s make love just one more time
On a bed of boards, four pillows deep,
Where you were mine, and I was yours
And nothing but nothing seemed to matter
Anymore, except you and I .
Copyright © Daniel Caplin | Year Posted 2024
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