I will not compare thee to a summer's day
the heat of which
boils inside me
making me hate the sweating passion
these long nights
bring
the kiss of summer wind
rattling the leaves from spring in my bones
the longing in the dark
the Press of moist
flesh
the wet kiss that
lingers
and then consumes me in memory
I sleep fitfully and wake
To the same intense heat
as when I fell to
sleep
this eternal summer
vacant
as I recall what came
prior to this
the buds of may
spoiled
turned brown before their time
as I ponder them and
wonder
who is fairest when I know
it is the this summer
stretched out with metaphor
to painful rack
exposed, excluded,
extinguished, exiled
to watch from afar
I will not compare
thee to a summer day
but to the long
nights
the cold nights
when we exchanged
whispers in the dark
when we still believed
anything was possible
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