Some Only Open At Moonlight [NaPoWriMo]

Our love is

tortured on

the nightly hour,

unheard and

unseen.

Barely open

for confrontation

or change

we rise with the

sun and

part separate

ways with the day-

break and avoid

peeking curious

eyes.

Our love is

like the Cas’blanca

Lily: dazzling,

pure and shy,

fragrant and sacred,

sea-bound and drenched

like the Mediterranean,

dizzying Jasmines.

Our love is as

tender as Moon

Flowers and

as courageous as

the moon’s purloined

silver glow,

sole witness

to our paganistic

nights.

Our love is

like midnight

blooms

only opening

in the dead

of whispers

and hushed sighs,

thighs spread

like petals

of the Lily,

lips scarcely

touching

for fear

of the ghasts

that haunt

the wretchedly

intoxicating

twilight.

Your gentle touch

heals like a Brahma

Kamal, purple and

God-like in

the enchanting

mists of night,

blooming in the chill

and cold, fighting

for survival

without a care

but I’m helpless-

ly self-centred

and protective

and vilely sheltered

like a Pipe Cactus

lashing out

sharp needles

at the prying

eyes, trying

to expose our

suffocating secret

to the damning

of daylight.

 

 

[Also posted at: https://www.wattpad.com/story/104560434 ]