I like the shadows
he casts,
from his gaze,
his touch,
his words.
These shadows
are shade n fire,
Of rage n of desire
And they stay
Long before he comes
Long after he’s gone.
And the effect?
Sometimes anguish
sometimes fun.
These shadows
he casts
each time we meet,
I lose a piece of me
Take a piece of him
Unwillingly.
And I’m left
With piling shadows
Intriguing in the day
Darker at night,
Of time spent
Way after dusk
Seldom in light.
What really
are these shadows?
An outcrop
an exchange?
Or just impressions
Unreal deranged?
Am I indeed
Thinking right?
Is it me deluding
Losing sight?
Be as it may
N as it seems
His shadows
Cross my line
of uneasy dreams.
They are straight
piercing and are fast
Made-up but unambiguous
And here to last.