‘Til Death and Beyond

We sat,

and sipped

silver glass chalices

of complex vintages,

skillfully mixed with oblivion.


How our eyes met,

over another night table

of solitary coffin nails

and slim, French cigarettes.


That same silk shroud

hung from your shoulders

and we still smelled of earth;

rich, loamy notes,

punctuated with something unmistakable.


Where your eyes were,

now lights shone on in dark recesses.

Your white brow

still as smooth and uncomplicated

as porcelain.


Without a word in our throats,

we never were better connected.

As cold as your fingertips felt,

I knew mine were colder.


And we drank,

and we watched

a new moon light up the night.

A star birthed

white hot blossom,

enveloping our mistakes.

As consuming as the love

of the resurrected.


HG – 2016

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