my body

warm from your touch

shivers

as wind crashes against

my bare legs

 

the landscape is crisp

and clear

farmland

colored like stained glass

 

the air is harsh in my lungs

early december nights

smell like fire

although I see no smoke

 

the full moon

and the fluorescent street lamps

fool me

into thinking dawn is dancing

just below the horizon

 

but no

the clock strikes three

the witching hour

and into my carriage I go

 

nightly

I make pilgrimage

to you

for comfort

the sort that only comes from some

body

 

you are my guilty pleasure

you are my “just one drink”

 

your chest presses firm

against my soft and ample flesh

your arms thick

to encase me

 

I need to feel your skin

hot against mine

your stubble on my neck

your rough hands upon my breasts

which I once offered up to you

and now you take without question

without asking

 

you are warm

when I am cold on the inside

and though we rarely speak a word

to you, I could pour my soul

 

“five more minutes” I said

just a few more moments

then I’ll get up

then I’ll go

but let me hit snooze just once more

reality can wait

 

I have done

the 7am taxi ride home

in the same clothes

I wore the night before

with my hair tasseled

and knotted

and my tooth brush

in my back pocket

 

my regrets drive me homeward

from my unsanctioned sanctuary