Last night a breath shared
and lips partially parted
warming the cockles
as the music lulled past midnight
in a castle nearly forgotten,
caught off guard
those early to bed
A dangerous liaison?
Who expected
Not I
You belonged to an ideal,
a romanticism
huddled beneath
the forlorn disco ball,
tequila, and lukewarm
cans of Squirt
No wonder saints
deigned to rendezvous
anew resuscitated
architecture
where barrel vaulted windows
frame clove and mistletoe
inhaled together,
algid
Horace Greeley beckons
heed his prophecy
It awaits,
your hibernaculum
But no matter how faraway
I will come
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