I Write, and Having Written, Move On

In The Garden

It is here we meet
Under cover of darkness
To share tiny morsels of the truth
“Feed it to me.” she whispers
And I am more than willing to oblige
She offers a taste of her bittersweet nectar
And I eagerly devour every last drop
On and on we ingest and replenish
Dining on our doubts
Feasting on our fears
Until each hidden flaw is revealed
Each emotional scar is exposed
And we can consume no more

As the full moon rises
We succumb to slumber
Weary from our tender tryst
Spent yet satiated
Only to meet again
Tomorrow night
In the garden