Memories

"Love is as much of an object as an obsession, everybody wants it, everybody seeks it, but few ever achieve it, those who do will cherish it, be lost in it, and among all, never... never forget it."

Curtis Judalet

***
 
Come softly my love,
in the quiet hour
with slow, deep kisses that linger
as if they had more need than breath itself.

I remember the trace of your fingers ~

the touch of your hands
as your lips spoke without words
and mine answered without hesitation
drinking in the warm,
sweet wine of your kisses...
 
***
 
I remember the dim lit room
after the dark
when lights were turned out
as our eyes became accustomed to starlight and moonlight's pale and silvery hue
soft as gossamer upon your skin.  

And I have sought in the shadows of the sweet dusk
which stands between dream and memory
where nothing is sure in wakings ebb
for you to return to me.
And as the remains of the day slip away
what matters still
save that which cheats our minds of sleep,
found wound in hearts deepest desire.

Have you not touched that deepest need?
For what is true desire
but to want to be loved for one's self in spite of all -
even as I love you still?

And so come thoughts of you
which seek to coax a flame from this smoldering ember
that in the waking light of day I'll remember and believe
that spirits walk the night in search of truths the waking mind avoids,
else why would you stir me night by night
who by day has nothing to say?

And do not words in silent stillness lie
beneath the stars and upon our hearts,
like truth and trust,
and hope and dream?
Does not love encompass all of these?
For who has not kissed in love or lust
or deep in passions throes
but in those depths
their hearts conceived forever?

And my heart remains there,
in that place your love conceived in me,
forever bound -
and yet,
as boundless as thought,
For I still remember you ~

and dream