[wearing thin]

let us meet here

in this hour

in this place

where no one else can find us.

like ghosts in the wind

let us pass through each other

spill our insides out

to run freely in the woods.

like waiters serving riches

let us present ourselves readily

dine on moral platters

eat ravenously with our bare hands.

let us say it all

in the dark in the flight

to soak in the hope

of giving everything.

the dreadful secrets residing within

the lustful impulses wearing thin.

-sgh

AN: I wrote this thinking of that scene in Bram Stoker’s Dracula, when Lucy waltses out of her grand bedroom to have a lil midnight party with the spirit of Dracula, in all its romping and intoxicating delight. I personally would have a dinner party and there would definitely be fondue.