Yearning

Chris Hall
Nov 3 · 1 min read
Source

All alone in the
big brass bed
you wait.

You’re late, my love!

Your body craves,
shivers, aches
with unfulfilled desires.

Where are you, my love?

A door bangs
A shutter creaks
He has come.

You are the moon
He is the night
You shine in his darkness.

Engulfed by his touch,
slave to the rhythm
of his dance.

Later, in the empty bed
You wonder:
Was he really here?

Two ruby red droplets
on your pillow.
The legacy of his love.

Chris Hall

Written by

Avid reader, compulsive writer, author of 3 novels and 1 short story collection. Join me over here: https://lunasonline.wordpress.com

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