Goose and Nothing Else

South Carolina
Send Message

Waning, Waxing

I beg the Moon to guide her to my dreams:
Where Lethe fog casts the past in shades of oblivion,
And I can once more press reverent lips to her damp cheek.
Her skin holds the vivid memory of warmth under my kiss;
I weep.

Come Love, we will forget ourselves
for eternity.
77 Total read