you liked it better in the dark.
asked for darkness, a blanket, blinds drawn,
a little softeniung, I like to think, of the harshness of sobriety
and the light of day.
when the lights went down
your hands on me
it comforts me and yet I wonder why this fear of light, sharp lines,
angels whose wings disintegrate in the purest light of day,
penetrated, demons burned and revealed by the sun.
in the dark I can forget you.
we melt.

this can't be a poem, these thoughts scratching at my head,
it would be too much to give you and I would wait
I would wait until daylight when you are long gone,
when my head is clear, and my night and day are markedd only by natural boundaries.
I'll write it and mark clear lines on the page.

you liked it better in the dark and blinked at me in the morning,
surprised I was still there,
maybe thinking I'd been a ghost.

and I'm too easily seduced, too comfortable in being your darkness,
letting you define me with your hands
we are softened
and all that's here is what you touch
I'm just a laugh and a sigh in the dark, you don't need
to see my face
praying to get to sleep before the sun comes up and I remember who you are
and I wonder, in this dark, who you imagine
you are touching.

Alison Fensterstock