Days Past

(This was written quite awhile ago. I revised a few lines.)

He slowly kissed her perked lips

As his hungry hand climbed up her thigh

Lustful moans for her and

Pleas not to be returned to reality

Were released from his chest.

Hovering between temptation and actuality,

She watched as the clock’s hands turned

The sun began its descent, her desire for his

Delicious lips increased

Time’s limit pushed farther back.

If only the hourglass would cease to sift and

We remained in this moment of melody—

He sang in her ear as his passion grabbed her close,

Heat overtaking her entirety like the wail of Coltrane’s sax.

Soon after they departed, hearts filled with lost time

Unable to live life truly relaxed

Since exposed to his musical mixture of blues and jazz,

She spent days between then and now to build

Immunity to his harmony

Riding her mind of his symphony

Until he stepped on stage again

This time exposed to his songs

Daily.

One day after work she invited him up to her place,

Together they shared thoughts about music, politics, and race

He stretched his arm across the couch nervously contemplating his endeavor

Abruptly jumping up

Unaware of how to

Slow down the pulse moving like danger.

She touched his skin, he slowly moved in

This just can’t end, she breathed in him.

Three days pass.

Their conversation went as smooth as Roy Ayers’ voice,

So her hopeful heart naïve to unexpected sores

Shared her magnetism to their fever,

To the tranquility of his being.

Silence loomed

Until he released a sigh of disillusionment:

I can’t…Her and I have a history and…

Words penetrate painfully

Causing the stage she had designed

The light inside her eye to

Vanish

Leaving only the desirous wails of the horn section

Echoing throughout the tunnel of

Love’s whirlwind swept her up

Dropped her outside the Friday night venue

To find a ticket in

To find a ticket in

She still has yet to find a ticket in

Sadness

Evaporates from her lips

As she sits listening

To little droplets carrying rhythm—

Rhythm that orchestrates her heart

To beat at unaccustomed paces

Rhythm that makes Cupid’s strums of

Melodic marriage understood

Rhythm that makes truth believable

Rhythm that conquers the hourglass

Rhythm that hibernates in her bones

In her thoughts

In her soul

She cannot stop feeling the rhythm

Wishing it was close like those days past.