“My face beneath the street lamp. It reveals what it is lonely people seek”
He strummed his strings with such fury
I was rapt with awe
and a wonder
locked between
the land of sleep
and waking dreams.
He was uncharted territory;
his face–unknown.
His eyes–dark pools of liquid gold.
My reflection was
but a silhouette
rippling atop his murky depths.
“Free me,” I whispered
with a kiss
upon his surface tension,
breaking it with delicate force.
But push became pull,
and I slipped through
losing my footing
to give way to complete
submersion.
