Early on in our marriage, a certain job opportunity arose where Kaz had to be out of town for around a week at a time. It was very temporary, but it was the first time we had spent significant time away from each other in a couple of years. In practical terms, it also meant a broad cessation of romantic opportunities. Which hits different when you are young and still in your newlywed phase. This poem grew out of that moment. Horniness, sure, but also that sense that your love has gone off into some other realm.
Persephone, It's been the slow settling of Eight hours since midnight and I still taste A hint of your pomegranate lips, The tangy bite of their sweet, the rose petal caress of their grenadine, their sculpted sigh brought forth From glass, the clay Upon them as they melt into smiles and thoughtful knowing Glances, Scattered across the shores of Lethe. I still taste your Pomegranate lips. I still taste The fog of your eyes, colorful and quiet, The sand of your hair, The smell of salt in your curves, the heat in your hint Of deeper things, The whisper of your pouring against my gentle walks, cool and miles long. I still taste your pomegranate lips, Keep them tucked away, in my Breast pocket, next to my monochronomatic locket, beating off timed tock-ticks with a hint of nervous Anxiety. I still taste your pomegranate forget, Against my lips of onyx and amethyst, And the whisper of dawn already come and gone.