And I Wake to Say Your Name

And I wake to say your name,

guided by a false hope,

an empty promise -

a love fed through a gleaming apple.

And yet I break teeth on this skin,

and remain standing - whole;

the juices sweet and flowing free

upon my parched tongue.

Is this safe?

Am I...still breathing?

My hands glide like weary dancers upon my skin

looking for what has always been there,

but my veins remain blue - like your eyes -

and my heart beats nervously,

like your eagerly approaching footsteps.

The door is there, within reach -

light shining through the cracks;

a call to arcadia,

just like that tantalizing apple.

Do I reach out?

Do I risk that pain?

Dawn breaks, defying time,

but its warmth is not felt

till I see your smile through the passage.

Is this what this fruit

is supposed to taste like?

Is this what it feels like

to be loved without the expectation

of a poisoned lie?

I'm afraid of this garden

blooming between us.

The hanging fruit has been

too great a lie to overcome

to chance another embrace

without the fear of the serpent

waiting in the shadows.

I feel its weight still,

as my hands curl around the door,

turning away from the light

to shut it out.

Maybe when I welcome back

the chamber shrouded in dusk,

the sheets spinning in cobweb,

I can fall asleep to the sounds of

your beautiful laugh -

this origin of darkness.

And I wake to say your name.