Sing me to sleep:
While you hang the moon;
A paragon refashioned.
Haunt me with music:
Shall you weave the wisp of song.
To contrive a lyric.
Play my strings.
I’ll close my eyes and feign
T’was composed of love.

Dance with me:
It takes two to tango;
Demons and angels stir.
Lead me across the floor:
Sure footed rushing to raise hell.
I the marionette.
Usher my flaws.
I will concede to your hands
As if passion forged.

Lie with me:
Your heart on your sleeve;
Affected nakedness.
Intimacy coerced; empty
Traitorous organ exposing all.
Secrets bleeding.
Unhealing wound.
Clutching a posy of promises
And the kiss of death.

Read more from Renae Tobias

~ And Poetry After Dark

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.