Eyes of the storm

My lover, why must you be so far away?  
My arms cannot embrace the ghost of you.
I am chained where sorrow casts blue shadow
and my tears catch a faint sparkle of the waning moon.

I wear them like rosary beads and pray to ephemeral Gods.

I came to you unashamed, tasted your fervor
hot on my tongue and swallowed the heat of us, of carnality.
We burn in the madness of it; this thing we call passion.
In the anguish of a callous reality we wait for the rain
to drive our loneliness into the gutters, as the storm
embraces our phantoms, indulgent, in the desires of flesh.

There is a meadow of contentment, between dawns and sunsets,
and one day the craving of our hearts will be more than a poem.