Same Face

There's this face you used to

make right before you'd kiss me.

You'd be smiling, your eyes sparkling,

Your hands encased in mine,

when you'd take on an almost

somber expression, make that

face now engraved in my mind,

and when I'd see it I would prepare

Myself for the blissful feeling

of your deep, crimson breath

on my pale lips and in my

Thirsty heart.

I see that face now, when

I venture into darkness.

When I close my eyes it's there,

and I find myself anticipating that

Indescribable pulse of your lips.

The pulse that will never again

Bring me life.

When I'm blessed with your

presence in my dreams

—or nightmares—

you're making that same face.

Sometimes you smile, but

more often than not, it's that

Haunting, surreal expression.

It's not the image of you

that makes me sit up,

sweating and panting,

from the labyrinth in

My dreams. That's not

what makes tears spring,

like eager lovers to a bed,

to my glassy eyes.


It's the feeling of you


The fact that there is no longer

a kiss to be awaited behind

those serene, breathtaking green eyes.