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Sometimes I’d wake up
in the small hours, thinking
I should reach for you
across the dark
and tear up the frail calm
with full-blooded passion,
but the sacred silence of
our conjoined breathing
would almost always
lull away the thought,
and I worry me.

I guess my heart is
just no longer as young
as it used to be;
it is less drunk,
more sleepy,
and would rather rest its head
on soft conversation
in a fog-enshrouded night
than devour thick slices
of danger and eroticism
by the hungry mouthfuls
and choke on the bone.

Oh, I’ve done a bit of
gyrating to temptation
and freewheeling on the edge
of power and sin,
back in my day.
I’ve lived in houses of cards
made from all the lies
I’ve told, and I
have shed rivers of tears
that will never be redeemed.
Back then, everything happened
so fast and in mad flashes,
there was no time to
feel worried or wonder
if I was bleeding too much
or if I would survive another
breaking into pieces
that punctuated each
half-thought-out tryst.

And maybe it was that old life
that now makes the love I give
so mellow and domesticated
that it needs to be recharged
every so often,
by, say, a good night’s sleep
so I can wake up next to you
or coming home
after a glitzy weekend in Vegas
back to the place which
I would now
never think to call a cage.

But I will always love you
if you would take this love,
and if I have ever doubted you
it was only those times
when I doubted myself.

“I’m on a Boat! Stony Creek Engagement” by photographer Adam Sparkes


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