Slow dance

This poem is about you and how

You leave licks of naked flames

On my skin, with imperfect

Fingers lingering, drawing

Ancient symbols I’ll never decrypt,

Marking me.


It’s about how your eyes burn

Right through my soul, forcing out

Unfamiliar sentiments that float

Above our shoulders, and I dare not

Hang them on your white walls. This poem

Is about how we slow dance.

4 am

It’s  4 am

As it was, almost a week ago.

I’m thinking it must mean something,

The fact that I can’t sleep now

And  I’m writing you this

Because it’s never too early.


I love you at 4 am

Not now, but I did a week ago

When we had just got back.

I was half drunk with sleep,

Yet I still waited up for you

Even though it was way too late.