Arabesque

Light seeping,

through the crevices

It moves in slowly, a pattern almost serpentine

dissipating the shadows that came with night

 
Stirring,

in her sleep she turned to face me

A vision of marred grace

The scheming songs of youth and drunken haze

 
Lovers,

you might call us

How else would you explain this notion

of endless routine and vice?

 
My thoughts,

a moulting mess at winter’s end

We must all be specks of dust floating in time

hoping to settle on something peculiar, something worthwhile.

 
Her figure,

coiling itself around my waist

Between us, a void that seemed to stretch in space

She be my weakness and I,

Her prey.

 
– For Aaron.
Free verse poetry writing assignment, 29.03.2010

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