Late at Night

I switch the rooms only to mimic as Lover,

on  a lost battle of underdogs’  love on the rocks,

the wine was spent like a hot ration for the poor,

who untwine the lovely from the rakish and good,

part of night wasted on the throes of love’s pain


Still wordless about the hectic labor of love,

there is silence about the unique nature of her corset’s blue color,

a flame that flickers even in the storms,

I pass the night in her shadow as she listens to my song,

Am I desperate to reach for the soulful color of her love,

But I wait patiently for the angel to leap forward for me,

and the night now on hinges of angels is carried by dark demonic love,

I hardly fathom her reason to put away my love under keeping,

and cherish it with sexual fantasy of being in love,

I must recall total night by passion of sea birds and halt!




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