Romance is Dead

Twinkle step; feather touch
caress gentle heart in
twilight hour-
swayed bodies
in mirabelle of
whispered dance.

Stars lucidly scattered
in perfected gaze,
arched extremities 
carefully placed,
move treading feet.

Treasured night glimpses
trickled pain, filtering
into the wide breath
of an oceans dream-
swimming,
tender.

Fleeting benevolence
halt heart in naked skin,
frayed edges melt
on an array of finite
rhythm- 

unravelled
strings forbearing,
sinking sweetly in
lined hands,
tremulous. 

Head tilted to sky, 
unconscious moment,
undefined peak,
motion perfect.