The Sound Of Their Moment

There's a stirring in the night
where images come together
and bump into each other.
They are blind to the light
and fall away so quickly
that lightning
flashes between the dust
of their falling.

Hands come together in a hush,
whispering their groans
to the wind,
afraid of the after effects
of their touch. They are brave,
but pull away
when eyes scan their moment
from the present
and demand a reason
for the games they ignite between them.

And it is night now.

Sounds move against the sheets
that rub against bare skin,
where she is still watching;
she is still asking questions
and wanting the riding to stop.

She sleeps.
And images come together against the night.
They clash against her thinking
and insight night terrors.
She knows me,
though we've never met.


© JMariah, 2011