10-21-2010, 12:55 PM
This look causes thirst,
the possibility of wanting,
this shiver, this melting
trail of ice cubes,
a slow drag
on your cigarette.
This desire: nature’s
airbrush softening the edges
inside a pale amber glow
like a fine mist
of honey.
This look that caresses
what can’t be seen,
that causes heat
to rise like steam,
making embers dance
across the nighttime sky
in that one precise moment
of dying perfection.
the possibility of wanting,
this shiver, this melting
trail of ice cubes,
a slow drag
on your cigarette.
This desire: nature’s
airbrush softening the edges
inside a pale amber glow
like a fine mist
of honey.
This look that caresses
what can’t be seen,
that causes heat
to rise like steam,
making embers dance
across the nighttime sky
in that one precise moment
of dying perfection.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson