Linger. Between the shadow of dawn and the silence of dusk, then dance with me in twilight. Let’s make nothing of the madness that surrounds us.
Let your words make careless contact with these contours and slowly seep into my aching pores…till I can only cry out for your touch.
Teach me to wait. . . And Linger.
Like the throbbing bass that pulses in your soul. Let it echo between our fingers as we ballet into our coupling; and you. . . Linger. . .
Your lips leave behind a story only I can read; each wet caress tattoos a time waiting to be constructed by us. Brick, pen, scented smiles. The storyline subtly skirts the summer of your peaking and my evolution into That Aspired Being. . .
Till the light forgives our ignorance and let’s us play into another night. Don’t make a spectacle of this, but keep this. Cased against the arrows of flaking time inside my solitude and your real.
There must be some truth to this. Show me.
You are only a vision this far.
You are only a voice this far. Come alive.
You could well be a dream this far. So come alive. And linger.
Don’t fade like the seconds we spend that come to pass, but pile on, like the hours before our meeting.
Linger. Well after the seasons bloom into their full and lie torpid until their return.
Linger. Like the taste of your voice that tickles the edges of my tongue. Linger, like your last confession, like the thought you let escape. Like my madness.
Linger. Until the end. Until the next beginning. Until the dream uncoils and explodes into a seething fantasy.
Just linger and let the games die, but keep the riddles playing.
Written with love for the Daily Prompt. Go write yours!