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Shadows: A poem.
I wrote this for that one guy.
Our shadows stand on the wall,
Dancing in candle flame.
Seducing the devil as they’re playing with fire
As we’re playing with fire.
They flicker about, unleashed, untamed.
They come together on the wall
As one we dance in candle flame
Wanting eachother as we feel our passion.
Yet shadows have no feeling.
On the wall they match our kiss
Like two figures in a painting.
Yet my shadow cannot feel the warmth in his lips.
Nor adore his loving eyes,
Deepening with time.
On the wall, they match each curve
As we bare our frames to each other.
They know our shapes, more than we take in
For my shadow cannot gaze at the color of his skin.
Gleaming and tempting.
On the wall, they match our fall
And now they see us lying together.
They beautifully mimic each step we take.
Yet they can only copy.
They match our movements in perfect sync,
Apart and back together.
So lifelike, yet only a portrait
For my shadow cannot have this craze
As feeling overwhelms me.
On the wall they match us now
Each erratic move or pause
Completely accurate yet only because
My shadow cannot revel in being complete.
They match ourselves in wondrous outline.
Each limb’s shudder. Every gentle quiver.
Sadly, my shadow cannot hear
The addicting sounds that touch my ears.
They melt together now
As we melt together now.
Yet my shadow cannot feel his pounding heart.
Nor can his shadow feel my trembling skin.
Never discouraged they artfully show
The rapid pace of our breathing slow.
They match us now as we hold one another
But they cannot copy this feeling of safety.
They match us now as we fall asleep.
They yearn to have this feeling of trust.
What’s more their lives are as short
As the candle is tall.
They flicker and shiver on the wall
Dreading each drop of molten wax.
Drip… drip… drip…
And they’re gone.