Annie's Poetry

I think perhaps
my greatest fetish is remembering
not simply recalling but reliving
returning again and again
to those impossible hours
where your body and mine moved together
like tides obeying the same moon
at night memory becomes tactile
I feel your hands in the darkness
between waking and dreaming
I hear your low whispers
drifting through the silence like smoke
the years between us disappear
and there is only skin
illuminated by fractured moonlight
the slow rhythm of breath
the unbearable tenderness
hidden beneath desire
you became a part of me
a beautiful devastation I revisit compulsively
wandering through the wreckage
with equal parts hunger and grief
a haunting, a ritual, a private mythology
the heart refuses to abandon
I carry you still, like an ember
hidden carefully beneath ash
quiet, burning and endless
©Ann Bagnall