You could be the edge of night
the card that cuts the dusk
and shuffles back the dawn.
You could be the stereo separation
the bass chasing melodic noise
the ritual urge to tap out lifelines
long leads on dance floors and
rain slick cement.
You could be
swaddled in silk and
pale blue ribbon and
in any compromising position
would look
angelic
in the moonlight
enticing
in the sun.

The fine hairs on the back of your neck
like wheat in the wind
waving from Elysium
an old and elusive myth
a song stuck in my throat
for the rest of my life --
worth the world's weight in gold
worth a lifetime of losing out
worth waking up forever again without you.
Sometimes I am drained by dreams of you,
drowned by your passing
and sometimes lifted up
dragged from the shoals
and made monumental
by the glow and the afterglow
of who you were
and what you are now.