when I am thus,
limbs laid out
at length
long after lights
have languished low,
the stray stayings
of you –
mere murmurs
of moments –
linger long
in evening’s teasings
of my curtains,
though they (I),
remain (not) tangled
in yearnings
of you
© Sarah Whiteley
instead this silence
lies loudly
where shaken sounds
should fall
should frantic land
upon the bareness
of shoulders
and skin that shivers
where lips
should lay tinder
for flaming tongues
instead this poverty
of hands
without hands
to grasp
curves to cup
and combust
this space
should frenzied blaze
and give way
to crashing thighs
and blended sighs
instead this silence
this turning away
from tempests
when I would rather
remain and burn
beneath you
© Sarah Whiteley
ebbtide 