Last Night

LAST NIGHT


Your image remains in the tendrils of thought
that drift in my mind – knowing you caught
me alone and in need.

The memory of your touch - feather light,
of your mouth on my skin in the darkness of night
draining my essence in greed.

Morning has come and what little remains
to bear witness – rumpled sheets and some stains:
Facts that mislead.

You are gone but in absence my body feels
the marks of your passion – memories that reveal
and will not recede.

Tonight I will wait for your silent return ...
You damnable mosquito – now it's your turn
to be abused and bleed!


Notes:

Thank you for dropping by and reading my little poem. As long as you're here, please - leave a comment, a reaction, a criticism, or even an "attaboy". All are equally welcome.

Ken