I lost you somewhere between Jesus and the floor boards.
And these thin tissue paper words are just that,
Frail and transparent.
I hold them up to the moon to see their faint shades dancing listlessly
And I wonder vaguely what happened to us.
Was it the light that made us realize we no longer wanted this?
Should we of just continued by candle light and soft perfumes of night flowers?
Turning and speaking love poems on sheets of satin,
No, not that.
Anything but, is what we truly are.
We aren't exotic night birds.
We are simple.
Your ribs are shades of black and white
Devoid of color I trace them
With failing fingers
The truth as solid as news print.
We haven't talked for weeks.
But in this moment there is only me and you
And blue collared cotton
Bleached by moonlight
In a new england farm house
Set alight by noiseless fire.
(So quietly we burn)
We are drifting apart. it is already late.
And I'm wondering
If I should say goodbye
Or make love to you one last time.