Preacher Beneath the Sheets
where do we store our lost lovers?
practices of pulsating romance
intangible sciences encompass hearts
affections built through dance
my darling, you were always
a preacher beneath the sheets
our kisses kept ember warm
as we retrace sentimental streets
you said I’m like red wine
delicious and dry
I’d never disagree with you
because when we were together, you’d never lie
you light cigarettes with a smile
a credible Alphonse Mucha illustration
you laughed through the smokey sunset
wise words lost to liqueur intoxication
a treasure on the eye
a portrait of the past
should I worship such sorcery-
when I cannot predict the forecast?
sundown is soon to come
but your style glows radiant white
your cheeks beaming brilliance
reflecting the hectic half-moon night
you said you liked lilies
though they remind most of the dead
you referred to a bunch of odd opinions
being a hopeless drunk, i forgot most that you said
I tasted your liquorice lips
stained wilted rose-red
you asked if I’d come home with you smugly
insinuating your suggestive signals had been misread
when I returned you home
our passion waltz your bed of pillow
we knew it wasn’t to last
faces turning to stricken sorrow
my darling, you were always
a preacher beneath the sheets
but the pain is christened numb
amongst the heaviest of heartbeats
Poem by Kate
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