Poetry, Romantic

the blue hour

fantasy lover; we meet when the clock
strikes two; the blue hour,
the sky drenched in layer
and layers of blue; we twine
indigo and narcissus
into crowns;
whimsical petals
freckle the bed; imprints
of hands and teeth
mark the smooth, supple
surface of satin;
hands or mouth or eyes;
you are my world
when we turn off the lights
and count the stars
before the world falls apart;
we splinter into two beings;
he and her, she and him;
two parallels who come together
to finally make sense,
we compliment each other–
even when he is in bed with another.
the ship has yet to sail
yet i already abandoned
the thought of you and me.
press words like commitment
and idealistic dreams
into my roots; rub witch hazel
into my pores
and watch as my true insecurities
drip from my lips
like fables.
fantasy lover; apple of my eye,
adam to my eve, cain to my abel,
cherish the time we have together
before i wake up and get the courage to finally leave…

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