The Dying Light of Dusk

My love’s face glows ephemeral,
in the dying light of dusk,
I breathe in breeze and forest air,
and your scent of soap and musk.

I’m intoxicated by your sight,
drunk on attention from you.
You say my hair’s the shade of sunset,
‘And just as pretty too.’

I don’t know who pulls the strings,
of the hanging stars of night,
but one day they blessed me
with my darling and my light.

And so I sit beside you,
hold you closer, closer yet,
and if I kiss you long enough,
perhaps I won’t forget.

I won’t forget what it feels like
– to have, to hold, to be –
orange breathes into the heavens above,
and the heaven sitting beside me.

My head’s at home in the crook of your neck,
two pieces clicking into place,
I feel fingertips at my chin,
my darling’s hands to my face.

My breathing stutters as you tilt me up,
and take my lips in yours.
You’re sticky with my staccato breath,
my baby I adore.

You lull me into slumber,
‘A crescent tonight,’ you say with a sigh.
I’m rich with love and comfort,
a crown for the King of Versailles.

I whisper sweet words in your ear,
‘I know sweetheart, I love you too,’
I press a kiss to pretty lips,
and thank the stars that made you.

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