Duty calls to me
I feel morally bound
By your sunlit smile
Night worries at my chapped hands, discreet,
Hiding the black ribbons of deceit
That adorn my hair
And tie my wrists to his kiss.
I'm sorry, I want to say,
But it is to vacuous and shallow,
Like the low tide at moon's rise
I want to feel mastered by this guilt,
But your distance won't allow it
Seas move in and drift the continents;
Africa feels warmer tonight,
And here, August has begun its decline.
January will bring you,
None the wiser,
And black night will shade
My dirty laundry from your view
Goodbye, I want to say,
But it is meaningless;
What is one kiss
In our night's of many?
© Copyright 2016 Nicola Jane. All rights reserved.
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