Monday, 16 December 2013

My Confession

I am sick with need
To run away to him

He who knows my secrets
my sorrows, and my sins

But he is a two-edged sword
razor sharp and dull

Quick minded and philosophical
prejudiced and banal

He straddles the two poles
pirouetting on the slippery tightrope of his mind

He reaches down and hands me his tainted soul
"To you my love" in charcoal he has etched and signed

I do not turn away
even when my kiss touches his frozen lips

I let him pull me closer
while he mews at tonight's lunar eclipse

Outside there is a banjo band
reciting Yuletide cheers

Inside I wait for him to return
from counting his every fear

© Copyright 2013, Susan M. Wolfe~All Rights Reserved
December 15, 2013/My Confession