Crush

There are only stars and sirens
and me in this house
silent but for the floorboards
whining.....wanting attention
during awkward hours

in my empty night dreams
you take me
my thick ankles messy hair
crooked pinky strong
will thin skin
wearing thinner.....my half
finished metaphors that leave you
grasping for meaning

you'll take these things
watch your ethics fade
with the sky color
and we'll live only in
the soundscape of our whispers
subtle as shadows
in dark corners.....and stealthy

this room.....like us.....will know
the imperitives of quiet
or would it
our secrets betraying us
for the sun.....first period

but I'll wait
I will write you some verses
sloppily printed with broken
sentences thick with purpose but
weakly excecuted
and you will take them
into a summer dusk
where there is just enough light out
to read