Far away,
the night between us grows darker,
stars can
only dream of such an
inky bed to sleep in.
A thousand light years
or a minute,
your thoughts
transcribed in ones
and zeros,
mine in answer,
zeros and ones,
but time is much more serpentine
and morning finds us wanting.

I feel your breath,
your handsome hands
are strong and agile as newborn snakes,
sifting sand and crushing it
to glass.
Your mouth is wet and singing
to the black waves in the harbour,
calling out the name I gave to the shadow that my heart casts,
the loneliest sound,
the bittersweet echo.
I’m coming, My Love,
on the wind.

Sigh again, please,
into my mouth so I can
keep your exhalation when
I vanish with the sun.
Come again,
across the sea and meet
me when the
dusk hangs heavy
at the edge
of night,
the stage of dreams
is set and the skies
are haunted with our ardor.

Violet Fawkes

Violet Fawkes (she/her) is a freelance writer and sex blogger focusing on pleasure education, erotic fiction, and the intersection of identity, kink and mental health.