We dangle from the engaging moon

yesterday’s ardent recollections,

exposed solely during dark of night,

these, our confidential possessions


saved for the light of pending days.

More than hopeful, we hold them loosely;

tucked away for pilfered glimpses,

to divert concerns obtusely,


are these lingering remembrances

of this, our clandestine passion.

Tell me, why is this so taboo?

Why am I, for you, forbidden?


Has it ever been any more true

that hidden kisses taste much sweeter

and that ardor is best when uttered

as hushed expressions echoed with timbre


in rendezvous behind closed doors?

These subtle twists of furtive trysts,

though complete, still wanting more,

as if somehow something might be missed.


In this, our amorous absolution,

moments shared are memories cherished

and if we persist with pure intentions

dreams we believe will set, not perish.


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