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Gray Dawn and Borrowed Time



Gray Dawn


As the gray morning rays of dawn penetrate the heavy red curtains,

I run my fingers ever so softly along her cheek.

The warmth of the fur sheets heats me externally,

Her smile in reaction to my touch sets off a nuclear reaction internally.

Safe, secure, calm.

For once, I need no distractions, merely, finally, just content to be.

I feel her skin stand on end, I pull her closer into myself.

That sought after state where nothing else but this moment matters.

Her natural scent wafts inside me, converting deserts into gardens.

Never have the words been truer: "The tragic and exquisite are the same to some degree."

In reflection, a single, solitary tear runs down my cheek, but not in sorrow, rather in an uncontrollable joy at the beauty of life.


Borrowed Time


Unrelenting fear and unrepentant joy.

A knowledge of heavenly moments looming closer to an end.

Raptured, frenzied, entranced in the luxurious confines of our world.

Temporal, borrowed time, an alternate life, crafted identity.

Laws of reality are thrown into disorder, as hours that once passed as mere seconds, now become days.

The radiant bliss of your beauty, snatched away by fate's cruel hands.

Doomed to forever be Abelard without my Heloise.

Contented merely in those quick, fleeting moments that present reason to life.


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