The 57th Day

Sometimes your greys, 

They colour my days. 

And sometimes your dark, 

Bleeds into my being. 

The water sloshes over, 

The pristine white stone, 

Of the pool of your cold and stark

Calls to me to atone…. 

The holy liquid of soap and sin, 

My crimes dissolve in your scented skin. 

And I find myself turning away from the light, 

I find the rain falling and I lose my sight…

Lost to the moon and it’s servant, the tides, 

‘I cannot fade in you,’ my lips so lied. 

My hands folded in prayer and a song

A fervent wish for you to take me along… 

To those lands of smoke and mask, 

Where I’d forget to pause and ask, 

In this quiet cocoon of dusky chrome, 

‘Is this terrain too alien to call our home?’ 

And these shadows, they morph

Into a familiar, fascinating frame, 

And the fluid of black, recede and reveal, 

A sanctuary of bone and breath; 

And I kneel. 

To your fevered flesh and the red underneath, 

Draws me out of the cold and into your heat. 

As night rises and I turn to face your soul, 

 I return the sacred kiss you gave, to make me your whole. 

Inspired by: 56 Days