of auburn sun came light
and let your naked form
cast shadow on my floor;
and brittle sounds of birds
combined with tempered moans
of you, in my duvet,
allowed a symphony to flow;
and tones of musk in your perfume—
which stain the bedding—
mix with my own sweat,
becoming almost sweet to taste
as tongue still feels
the notes of yesterday's
delight
post scriptum
(hover)
i wrote this poem while watching the first few episodes of season three of hannibal. something about the setting, and the intimacy present between will and hannibal really dug into me, and forced itself out of me in the form of this.
it's a time that i look back on quite fondly, honestly, even though it was only a few months back. it was december and it was cold enough for me to wear my leather jacket to school, i was still fostering kittens. i would go to sleep right after coming back home so i could spend the hours from 11pm to 5am watching hannibal, under the warm light of my lamp.
i think there's something to being completely taken over by a show or book or whatever else that cannot be replicated in the typical rhythm of life.