I can see you. Resting. Dreaming. Sleeping.

& It doesn’t matter about the silence. Or the darkness.  Or that your father sits downstairs.

For I can see you.

& your sweet delicate knees tucked high, Your face, still, calm, perfect.

The letter you’ll awake to lies gently beside. A tale to tell. A photo of feelings.

Will your pillow smile in the morning rise? Or will you rip me apart again?

I consider this as i watch. & i enjoy. As a sensual shallow slither of light cuts across your brilliant white skin, I smile.

You seem to kiss the crescent of the moon and dream of the stars outside. I look momentarily through the same cracked window in which you face. & I see death stalk the land.

So I sit.  Nervously.  Gradually. My screaming heart ripping through my quaking chest.

& My mind on mute.

The mattress lures. invitingly. & your smooth skin, wrapped in lovelorn silk, soon lies unknowingly next to mine. Oh, I wish you would awake.

I wish you would call me. hold me. invite me. & Breathe again the same desires which we shared

– I love you –

Yes.  I love you!

My midnight fingers begin to slowly caress your delicate long soft hair – & you laugh. You reach out & lay your hand on my shoulder. & we lie. together.  Eyes searching, games in the dark. & we re-enact the smiles which we used to share.

But I have to leave you.  I must.

For the night will tease you with dreams and hurt me more with the pain of who you are. So I sneak out. & your father continues to snore in front of the grinding dumb TV.

Dear you. find this kiss upon your lips & know whose heart is true.

May your rejoice in the letter which shares your breath tonight. Or may you remember me and cry out my name in pain.

& see the rivers that you fill flow like mine.

So Merry Christmas my dear.

Know what I say is true.

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