Moments and Promises.

Those moments they wander, urge and yearn

for more amidst the clouds of despair

where the memories daunt and the hope awakens.

Moments where my lips parted under the darkness

from her freckled cheeks and my mind embraced

the thoughts of distilled solitude.

 

My promises are no more alive neither in her claims

nor in my memories along the periphery

of her breaths that slithered over my face.

Breaths which remind me of the curves on her body

that my hands traced and the shadow of words

she swore in its curtailed grace.

 

Yet I hunt no more for such memories and promises

that can seek to transform my tender muses

into weapons of compassion and pleasure.

Weapons that can devote to soak my mind

in the forgotten language of love and my body

in the indelible tone of lust.

 

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