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The Actor And The Comet

Dog fur

is all over the bed.

The bed frame

is made from a willow tree.


are all over the wall.

There’s a book-shelf

full of poetry.

An old tv

and a gamecube underneath it,

sitting on a tv stand,

a few feet in front of the bed.

Soft sheets


a warm,



Two bodies,


underneath the soft sheets.

Two souls,

experiencing each other.

Two lips,

sofly connecting.

The dog lays at the end of the bed,

right by our feet.

Two glasses of wine,

sit next to a lamp,

on a gray nightstand.

I run my fingers down her bare back,

wishing to live in this moment



it’s just a memory now,

and so much has happened since then.

It doesn’t feel real anymore.

It’s like it was never me that was between her sheets.

It feels like the man in my memory,

was an actor-

a stand in.

A ghost from the past.

And she,

she is a comet-

streaking across the night sky.

Only experienced briefly,


gone forever.

Never forgotten,


gone forever.


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