we always played enya
in the hollows of those nights
where we tasted each other in flights of fantasy
and i recorded our touches
with thick poetry.
wrapped in a quilt of velvet tritone,
we let the taper candles gutter and die
and ignored the darkness
as we breathed into each other,
giving into a vacuum of kisses,
whispering of long years ahead;
you tried unsuccessfully to harmonize with her
as i memorized your topography
with my fingertips.
i could see nothing in that golden darkness;
i could feel more than heaven.
but you've gone and now there are only ashes--
the music has faded into melancholy
and i will suck my tongue
in remembrance of you.
Author notes
42. "I'll suck my tongue in remembrance of you." -- "Possibly Maybe" by Bjork.
A contest entry
- Prompt Contest (B-2) by OhNoChastity.
1900 points, ended January 14, 2009, 15 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
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