He shows up every third blue moon.
Howling wolf cries under melancholic moonbeams,
calling for my embrace before he gets swallowed
back into the void of my hazy lunar dream.
Stalking black panther pursues him in the black night,
in hopes I don’t wake soon. We’re safe here.
Make the move before my rogue lips steal the moon’s hue.
Pounce! Go in for the kill!
Go in for the kiss!
A lone wolf is an open wolf.
Take his breath until he has none.
Gift me with those fresh visions of him,
so that I may bury the dead memories
in these decaying leaves by the river
lit up by the light we once basked in.
Leave a Reply