The Memory of a Night That Lasted for Centuries
It was the night with no name,
when your tongue spoke me without words,
when our bodies became the alphabet of thirst,
and every breath whispered a moan.
Your embrace was no shelter—
it was fire melting me slowly,
your lips drinking me in
like the last glass at a forbidden feast.
In every touch—a quiet earthquake,
in every kiss of skin, a pagan prayer.
Your fingers flowed like warm water,
unlocking doors I never knew I had.
Your fingers traced maps anew,
where only we knew the language of the roads.
Across my back, you wrote unwritten poems
with letters of light and sweet burnings.
Our eyes—two galaxies colliding,
sparks, flavors, words left unspoken.
Dawn dared not awaken us,
for our night lasted longer than a lifetime.
The bed devoured us like a deep sea,
where beginnings and endings blurred.
You said “wait,” but you stole me instead,
like a shadow searching for light beneath the skin.
On your chest, I rested the whole universe,
between your thighs, I found peace and unrest.
You became a season that never ends,
and I became the night that never dies.
Even now, when all is quiet,
the scent of that lost night awakens me—
when we loved like two cursed souls
sharing a moment that lasted an eternity.
