He's Dark - Gothic Poetry by LB Shaw
His kisses loom like shadows before they
reach my lips.
And his hands flow like a river before they
touch my hips.
Our words don't break the silence when they're
spoken under breath.
But it doesn't really matter when you're nothing
more than deaf.
The shadows they are there with no
contact in between.
And it's a shame but you don't know my hips are
long and lean.
You wait for me I wait for you this
silence growing cold.
And in the end we both shut down too young too
far too old.