buried in winter

In dreams of the undergrowth
we were perfect
holy – united
drunk off the pheromones
of our mutual desire
that slid with fingers
beneath summer tan lines
into warm winter delights

In eternal midnights
the Aurora shone gloriously
across the misted sky
like the beatings
of our fickle hearts
breathing in ephemeral ecstasy
that was never meant to last
beyond the magnetic star dust
dispersing in our atmosphere

And in those memories
of fireside heat melting polar ice caps
global warming was at the mercy
of our whimsical fancies
that trickled like molten wax
over a dead pocket watch

In its silently bated breath
we believed in the holy forever-ness
of magnets and lust
lost in honey scented smoke
and the warmth of skin on skin
tongues in mouths
speaking without words
before the sun rose
to give birth to a glaring spring
and our vampiric pallor

Like ice water over an open fire
our illusions wafted away
towards a summer breeze
and backward dreams of undergrowth moments
where lust was the height of perfection

© Indie Adams 2012