nine minutes alone

one last attempt & i shake my head.

my hand transfixed by the beauty of her neck.

it would not move.

her neck was warm, her lips moist and red and brightly shone.

i wished to kiss.

the pause before i escape will be long for i cannot get past her beauty.

But shall I kill or let her sleep?

*I love her*

but then I’ve written that on her walls.

Yet beats of blood splash through her veins. a tear upon her eye.

She sleeps but i guess she knows. She has been here many times before.

i long for her. but i cannot. I must not.

A brightly lit room.

but key in downstairs hall makes me scared. SHE is home & a dream must die.

Or i.

…Or i.

her flaxen hair swirls across the pillows white and her naked body escapes under crumpled clothes.

do you suppose that death should take the virgin fire and encapsulate it in my memory?

With walls of red and a loin that hurts, i know this girl will sleep and gently talk.

for i am God and god does well.

He covets and spies and seeks his pleasure, but yet, see him leave!

& know that angel rests in weary sleep, with weary dreams and weary thoughts.

i leave a kiss. planted on her soft pristine forehead. & I must run.

I must act unwell. I must act the role! the one that says that I am ghost.

& i let her sleep.

& i know that you cannot speak.

(c) Ed Simkins

~ I have no idea! I closed my eyes & this is what I saw!

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