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twelfth hour escapades,

palms which beg to be interlocked descend cantina handrailing in succession.

floodlit by illusory effulgence;

the eventide backdrop assists in gilding the lily

an intimate acquaint of osculation sheltered in chiaroscuro.

revelling in the planet's still,

wandering hands delay their absence for longer than plausible

only halting endearments at the intervention of onlookers

i'm on clouds while he's brought down to earth.

goodbyes conceal their burning want with spirit ammunition,

carrying around a first time excitement which trips and spills into early morning hours

I remain idle as he serpentines back to his favourite safe bet

the foreboding of any possible continuation negates the myriad of wrongdoings

this trialing of affection becomes the centrefold of my mind...