Untitled

Tonight we trun and turn again
in search of some dimly recalled
rocking motion
a pull of desire like small waves
then the rush of sound
as these same waves lick
rapidly at the shore
a final reprieve
as dreams finally leave us
upon waking
salt-stained perhaps
still feeling the sticky remainder
of white
which whispers
it's over

In the morning's near light
I can no longer define your body
when once I knew it by touch
there is only a deep dense space
which lies twisted beside me
between us there is only emptiness
a chasm of ghostly remembrance
so why do your lips still linger at mine
I can still taste you
dull perhaps but like a promise
a final implosion into nothingness
supernova-like
where not even this dark presence
will find us rocking
wave-like...