Strike with your terrible beauty,
swathing great arcs in the air so close to my cheek
I can feel the cold silver of your razor gaze
piercing this lingering malaise.
Over the ladder back chair
the coats are folded into one another,
draped black on black, dark spirit lovers
languishing between the covers.
Silence waits for your murmur.
(Dorian~ we were writing at the same time~ I didn't see your post until after :)