Loganberry Dreams

I watch him sleep in the early hours of morning,
mane as black waters, lips as rosebud
with a duskier fragrance,
a blend of bitter orange and sage—
and I mouth a silent prayer.
Outside the wind blows
violent, merciless, relentless and unyielding;
sometimes souls like ours just come together
like solving quadratic equations
by factoring—
leaning over, my gaze falls upon a tortoiseshell comb
with jeweled rims, a half-eaten loganberry
and a copy of Station Eleven.
I tiptoe into the dark heart of his desire,
slipping the comb into my hair;
breathing slower and faster at the same time—
is there any reason
as to why silence carries meaning
as much as words
blinked from eyes,

while one mouth seeks the other?

 

 

Photo credits: Pinterest

A Skylover Wordlist:  Merciless, tortoiseshell,
fragrant 💝

Posted for the Writers’ Pantry @ Poets and Storytellers United