Laughing so hard the world swims salty,
(But this pen knows this is because I miss you.)

Clap my hands upon his back
Before he pulls me down.

How needing his gaze,
How rough his lips,
How desperate his jeans,
(Peaking both against and
Inside this stomach.)

How creeping his hands:
Fingers hewn from stone roughly
Storming my own.
(No delicate lacing of
The pianist's touch.)

One dream of perfect pleasure,
One night of sweet serenity,
One day of burning beauty.

(But your mask took that away.)

Burning bushes blaze beneath
These weary feet that carry on
Through trenches, drench me with your tears,
Encasing comfort cries beside.

(But these tears are the kind that scrunch your face,
Knit your brows and corkscrew your heart--
Though you'll never see the blood.)

And how sweetly his prying passion begs
For more.
(And more.)
(And more.)

But our masked balls will carry us through,
Dancing forms in frills of fake.

(Yet these moments are all we have.)