The Dark Corner.

There is nothing quite like the sound
of a piano playing a bittersweet tune,
and you standing in front of a window,
naked,
allowing the Moon to illuminate you
and demonstrate the outline of your silhouette,
and me sitting in a dark corner across the room,
staring at you, from head to toe,
wondering and questioning myself
how is it possible for such an entity to exist,
watching the shadows of your curves,
the slight and delicate movement of your chest
concealing your beating heart,
admiring the sight of your hands,
the graceful cascade of your veins,
sighing at your legs,
shivering at your stomach,
and tearing at the wondrous
shape of your face,
the elegance of your lips,
the flame shining through your eyes,
closing my eyes at the mere thought
of reaching your hair,
touching myself fantasizing
about your skin,
smooth and rough,
like the liberating sensation
of a rainfall in the spring,
smiling at the magic of your fingers,
wishing they could toy with me
and turn me into something
from the nothing I feel
when distance parts our ways,
when silence covers your laugh,
when absence fills the warmth
of your presence,
when idleness kills the life I draw
from your very existence,
the breaths I collect from your joy,
the trembling I am conquered with while
I surrender myself to
yet
another
illusion of your body
walking towards mine
and your hands reaching
for my neck
while my mouth
is seeking for yours
inside the
incessant
thunderstorm
of my
smallness.

a reminder icon BAEHR