05/25/2025
“… With wastes of thirsty waiting between…”
- Edith Wharton
I came back to myself
Like a lover long parted
Unsure if the feelings remained
Trying to catch myself
With quick stolen looks
My mind whispering a dozen lies
Before she faced me fully and
Into her eyes I tripped and fell
The irises spoke to me of desire
Heedless of our future, of life, of death
I kissed her lips until they became mine
Pulling back, sunrise spilled into her face
She gifted me her portion of hope
Which is and always will be enough