The Living Daylights

The Living Daylights

Death is where we usually do this.

A decision deemed prudent enough

to say "screw it"

should we screw things up

and want to keep going.

The dark sees it all,

after all.

All knowing but showing no signs.

Not a trace 

of us stumbling over each other

and mumbling under the hovering tension.

Detail and dimension mean very little.

I don't need to see that tremble

informed as much by desire

as it is by this mutual ire

so gross and grim

that we only take advantage of

when things are beyond dim.

No grin when I grip your hips

and reach down

to drive a rift between

Leer and Revulsion

with practiced repulsion

at the sight of a frustration

that I fondle fervently

to force out those words

you love to fling my way

until your mouth is full of a malice

thick, meaty and rough

to shut you up long enough

to make a mess of things.

Window reflection would disclose

the violence that we chose

but seldom when the day

has already begun.

We wouldn't dare under the sun.

Even somewhat soon

for us to ravage beneath the moon

but at least we can hide from that glare.

Me sitting here.

Stewing.

You laying there.

Chewing at your lip.

One trip though memories

we've convinced ourselves were loathsome

still holds much sway

evidently.

Slid from the edge to stand over me.

Face contorted in derision

then a measured shift in vision

upon me fitting like an incision

deep inside

watching you ride me through the anger.

Oh the danger we'd attract

under the attack of refraction....

The dirty deeds one would detect

should we fall victim to reflection....

Even recollection is a push

under unencumbered visibility

as onlookers would quizzically

decipher such loose displacement.

Your place is here 

where I've positioned you.

Away from view as stated.

My place is there

with your hands in my hair

somewhere between fond and frustrated.

Whether or not to stop debated

about as long as blinks can measure.

Should the dawn ever reach us

in our effort against one's pride,

it very well may teach us

about the reasons why we hide....

..... I'd sooner die.

Devin Joseph Metz

9.18.21