His love is nothing like the sun
It is midnight
Cold
Shivering along soiled mahogany
Waxed over like a heart beat forgotten on screeching sound waves
His touch is not loving but lustful
Confusing, beckoning
She reaches for warm love
But is rewarded with shadowed romance
Captured behind star dazed humanism
Such a fallacy
Contained in We
Journeying through coarse valleys
To become US
