Come sit by my side, my love,
and tell me what I long to hear…
A whispered promise in my ear,
maybe more, if time allows.
How things we say evolve to vows
and just as easily dissolve
Perspective running wild…
You read to me as if a child,
Neruda, in a state of flux;
Byron, Keats, Browning,
wicked alchemy in syllables.
I was surely hypnotized
before I ever realized,
The world you opened up to me,
like lovely cuts upon my soul,
Dying happily in your arms;
You breathe me in again…

Resuscitating with a kiss,
stop my heart, one the same,
and with a word, speak love to life,
or like a matchhead, spark a flame.
I felt the same, almost too late,
a twist of fate so sweetly turned…
Pursued you with a penchant,
And you greedily obliged.
Sipping words like sugar;
Rosehip tea and tastes for tongues…

Levels climbed as ladder rungs
to heaven’s cobalt skies.
Watching in a mirror,
writing poetry with your eyes.
Lavender intoxicates,
then, all at once, Evaporates,
in sins, we shared, no guilt, no cares,
no fragile souls to save…

Then, on your knees, you cried to god,
I said the same prayer every day
Blessing everything we say,
words becoming breaths
Listening closely with our souls;
whispers, racing up my spine
Those slippery fantasies unwind,
coveting your kisses
Hunger, flames, like sacred tongues,
brilliant, never burning
Boiling blood to passion’s bed,
We sway as newborn lovers
Creating artwork under covers,
silken kinship, hearts entwined
Is love immortal? Time divine?
I feel you now…like fire…

Into the realms of always yes…
always was…always is.
Indeed, we complicate true love,
hanging on to loss, we miss
And now, I am the author
longing for his paragraphs,
Hoarding loss like stars above,
delivering letters tied to doves…
You told me what you loved the most,
How poetry turns you on
How words are hands creating bonds
like velvet ropes around your wrists
Snaking to your elbows,
tied as love notes close behind
The touch to drive you to the skies,
You were not afraid to fly…

You screamed and fell into my arms,
eclectic charms in multiples
You asked me what I loved the most,
How mystery rules your days…
But darkness sheds light just the same;
Inhibitions…vain contricians
And was it love? Oh yes, it was,
a myriad of lovely lines…
Confessions in a glass of wine,
maybe two or maybe three.
We know what’s true, instinctively,
how knowledge is sublime…
The more we know about a thing,
decisions come to bear…
What’s denied and what we share,
we know as we are known…

Perfection is illusion,
just as beauty is a lie
Acceptance is a gamble;
Truth is easily denied.
It’s not always the things we love
nor faults of mind we hate
It’s more a choice of what we need,
what we are willing to tolerate
The dalliance of precious time,
the pleasures of the night we seek
Hanging on the words you speak,
How your voice still draws me in
Seduction for mercurial minds,
I find myself in (present tense)
A slave to love, in my defense,
the power of your tongue…

As every night begins, begun,
no ending to consume.
In retrospect, I’ve loved you,
and in truth, I love you still.
Entanglement in satin,
let us dance in fields of light
The moon is magic as we lay….
The stars are angels on display.
They’re watching us kiss with envious eyes,
fingers dancing to your sighs
Your body is my temple;
let me pray between your thighs
Upon the altar of your mind,
Will I sacrifice my soul?
Until your blessing is released,
it did…and so it was…

As if a song without the words,
And yet, I heard you in my thoughts
with every kiss, between your breaths…
You watch me, hungry, tasting,
Devouring moments, almost satisfied,
laying hands atop my head;
watching as the sky explodes,
supernova dreams on ceilings…
Then the moon comes suddenly,
through sweet cream clouds above,
to shower you in stardust streams,
You ride on lightning; skies unfold
Arching over me, ecstatic,
candles casting shadows..
rolling thunder off your tongue.
And how will we describe these scenes?
To document the stuff of dreams?

It seems the gods approved.
Yes, they blessed my recollections,
Introspection poured like honey.
Inkwells filled with what was when…
The now and then, once and again,
Imperfect love, I remember you!
It’s always been that way;
You know this much is true…
The memory of those early days,
the magic haze of conversation;
drifting off to sleep,
remembering your sainted cry
It’s not a choice I could deny.
Days unfolding like these pages
On my pillow, on my lips,
in my dreams…it seems…it seems…
Memory was always a blessing,
That is, until it was not.

©2025 TM DiSarro/MindScapes Publishing

From: THE MEMORY OF RAIN