Monsoon Season

The rain pours in torrents outside our window.
The stars are gone, and moon no longer can glow.
Warm in each other’s arms, we have a piece of time.
But time will always run out, always the clock will chime.
Your soft skin radiates against mine in the darkness,
and I see life, it’s sweetness and grit, in blue starkness.
We found ourselves, far from home, far from paradise,
for a time safe and warm, and whole, but it was a toss of dice
that even this moment, in the monsoon season, would come.
Facing your kindness and tenderness and I am struck dumb.
Somewhere outside the window, heaven is burning,
and somewhere else a lost child to their home is returning.
Somewhere there are people happy and free who know not
the sorrows we’ve had, and to whom innocence is not forgot.
I kiss your head, pull you close, inhale the salt of your skin.
Love intertwined with lust, desire made holy, a precious sin.


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