Detritus

They wait under petroleum hues and watch as the wash of eve drains
again to knowing dusk. Crepuscular notions and skittering breezes
trouble stray hairs and dance the detritus of another day, causing him
to linger momentarily on metaphors troublingly self suggestive. But not
for long. A lull, an eyehide, and gone.

She, still reflecting the ochre of dying day, reclines in the sensuous
ardor of recent satisfaction. Epiphanies of doubt are his, and best
that way. The slow tug of the sun, and the soul warmth still drifting
through her, anaesthetize all that without. Desire still a frequent
friend, and regret much a heartbreak away, she glides the ephemeral and
basks in transient joy.

But enough. Neither yet deign to admit the imminent love end, the
imminent end to life lie. They wait.

Why here? Gorged first on the seductiveness of pleasure, then consoled
with folly's amorous and crystal allure, they wait in their evesong. As
day gone fireflies tracking their terminal paths around a smouldering
wick, the impending darkness is both understood and longed for. The
final glow teases the last throes of the dance, but with wingfade fast
approaching, the void looms.

A pause.

For each, a delight, a single note chiming through the ether, a
momentary respite from chemical abstraction and a wound in the sobriety
of reality. For each, a kiss no tell, an authorless tale, and
somewhere, somewhere, treefall. For each, the taste of an
instant.

More? Shared yearning, the mutual rape of affection for savaged lust,
and as evidence a spent reminder to join the rest of the jetsam. At the
drive thru of life, there can be nothing more disposably divine.

And so, a stir.

Their still twined legs restrict the natural urge to stretch, to wake.
As the waxen skin pulls taught around supine form, a sense, and he
moves. The bodies part; the cage opens, and he can but exhale as the
sweet aura of intense claustrophobia lifts.

His fingers drift idly through swallow patterns on her arched flank and
through matted curls: more token than felt, and taken as such. The
look, the slow sad smiles of those once again on the abyss of the self,
once again feeling solitude's drag. And spellbreak. Tempus ad
infinitum.

A lull.

An eyehide.

Contract settled.

And gone.