The night air is heavy with moisture
Weighing down upon me, offering
A temporary diversion from these thoughts
That have shamelessly denied me
My desire to sleep.
My restlessness proves to be
A most uneasy companion as we
Walk hand in hand,
Nervously scanning the street ahead.
It appears to be abandoned
And almost as lonely
As what remains in the shell
Of my heart.
The street lamps mock me,
Feigning an effort to guide me
Further into the unknown
And closer to the forbidden
Side of town.
I have nothing left to offer.
The assumption that declaring
My truth would distill my soul
Had proven to be fallaciousness.
Replete with self induced sorrow,
I continue my stride towards something
Yet unknown and unnameable,
Pausing only briefly to salute
The smell of the ocean with a
Salty refugee flown free
From my left eye.
Wiping away the bitter sting,
I wonder if my vision deceives.
I see it once more.
A blur of movement near the
Entrance to the docks effects
A chilling of the essence
Running through my veins.
I can feel him,
Though I know not his name.
I haven’t the will to contradict
My fatigued curiosity and even less
The inclination to return home.
With the certainty that he read my thoughts
Long before my arrival,
I brace myself,
Settling into an uncanny comfort
As I acquiesce.
Perhaps I never really knew
What I wanted.
Past the iciness of his hands
On my shoulders, I feel life,
Albeit in terms that I have never
Fully appraised.
What of rumors and warnings?
I turn to face him, and though the
Wind has faded into naught,
I am swayed.
© 2018 Tina Jordan, All Rights Reserved
Photo by Henry Be on Unsplash
