The Night

I can still taste him on my lips. 
Like glacial water and exposed greens 
and a blueberry sweetness 
lingering. 

The lure of his essence 
as oceans tugging at the distance, 
as flowers blooming in mystery,
honeystuck. 

His presence so ghostly 
it moves like peace 
has my head at his windy palm, 
his closeness 
mountainous. 

And silence accommodates the hour 
when he opens my chest
to find a heart 
dancing. 

Where I can sleep safely
dream freely, 
swim with starry wonder, 
feel. 

Yes, he is, so soft and ripe, 
so mellow and delicious, 
a soul-stealing 
ecstasy.