Don’t Resist.
I must admit
to an obsession.
24 feels like 72 without you.
You are illuminated gold
for unkempt souls like I.
I’m here, every night.
Hunched like a fortress archer
stooping down to spy
on the blinking hearts
that stumble by.
You are skeleton wish-skin,
like crisp white parchment
blown through the stillness
of damp alleyways waiting
for elegant replies.
I don’t wish to tear
the twin suede binds you bring;
habit and urge - the addictions
you have become. I love you,
in another guise.