the noon sun, hazy through my curtians
your searching blue eyes, quiet like the morning
skin so warm, the blankets are abandoned
no words are spoken, as your hands sweep my sides
thoughts of midnight hours, dance between us
as much as we both want it, we dismiss it
and when it is right, it will be.
but until then, stay til the afternoon
and let your fingers run my backbone
and your arms hold my body
so broken, so haunted
so desperately wanting,
love will be born again with you.
a better child, raised up in winter
slowly taught how to walk, how to speak
truth, neither of us have been fond of
conceived in the darkest hour
brought into the harsh of december
january shows signs of being mild
and letting this love grow
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