Poetry for a lover, only present in dreams.
As dusk comes down upon our realm
as I descend into my mortal slumber
I allow my spirit to take refuge
in a subtle field blessed by the Goddess of the night.
Blessed be she
Nyx, her eyes gaze at me,
watery for my composure.
Crouching and wailing I am
for I have to bid her goodbye.
Her, and my turquoise-tinted muse.
How I yearned to finally embrace her,
her tender lips pressed against my own
the warmth of her body engulfing my soul.
I could not leave her if I wanted to
nor grasp her more,
as much in adoration as I lie in.
‘Am I going to see you again tomorrow?
Are your eyes going to be a distant memory
of a wondrous dream
-that seems as a torment from Cupid himself-
in a paradise far-away?
Will you ever bless me with your touch;
of which I’ve never felt an equal tend to my essence?
