In the flickering of candlelight,

Of thoughts so warm and vacant,

We stumble through hypotheses,

Of the universe and vagrants.


The sharpest brush of skin

Whispers against mine,

In the blue hour before nightfall -

In the twilight time:


An arena of stars that play

To the moon and absent sun;

We share one breath, one movement,

Two entities merged and gone:


A peninsula of trepidation,

And your words are warning signs –

We trace the edges of clouds,

And maps without colours or lines.


Dust swirls with my words,

And settles in your touch.

Our concepts become too much.


And here in the blue hour,

Of moving shadows,

And darkness deep as wells.

Here is where I love you.

The title is French for 'ephemeral' - so, transient, or fleeting. Thank you for reading, and as always, I'd love to know your thoughts.

Eleantris :)