the sweet

the sweet

Stars are passive observers
to sleepless nights
where sighs are my closest companions
and the warmth of her breath leaves me
for want of sinew and flesh
and draped words that tell
of chariots and kings
that my lips will not satisfy
for lack of a better reason
than consequential logic.

Rosary beads,strewn like selfless martyrs
across aged wood
are faithful listeners to the cacophony of my thoughts,
a court of silent persons
that hold no threat of bearing my sins
to public eye and ear.

The vodka speaks to me
against the flicker of candlelight
its lips moving across the still glass
the dance of the flame against the wind
taunting this old boy's better half
to give up morality and ethics
and ability to discern either
for the sweet bitterness of its kiss,
asking like no other can,
to take and not ask.

I am unduly guilty;
as i lose more than just bodily function
to the liquid sapphire that courses my veins,
of lust and love alike,
and like the fellow man
I am too stubborn to admit
that she is both want and need,
and like the fellow man
there is little i would not give
for her to take consequential logic
and damn it to hell
for lack of a better reason
than for her desire to take
and not ask.