Between The Sheets

The naked flesh of a blank notebook page,

Lay bare and inviting to my eager touch,

The pen is my dancer, and the desk is my stage,

Artfully is formed the twining of words,

 

Softly, with the passion of stars,

My wet ink upon the lines,

Soothing my need and the pain of scars,

From echos in the night,

 

The covers of the book, like those on my bed,

Hide the wanting that lies between,

Both whisper the dreams of what was never said,

As my wine bottle gets lighter…

 

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