Tent

Slept in a tent last night
again
and it's been a while
It spoke to me in a dream
A mix between many moments
a cocktail, somber
on the cool
On par with many tent times
I'm convinced tents are magical
Though it wasn't the spell cast
causing the blonde to look over
meeting my gaze, pretending to have
something she couldn't leave behind
No, and it wasn't a feat of prestidigitation
to screw, nor a conquest, but drab mutual desire
nothing more, with the auburn.
And it's not where I am now,
but a different place entirely.
The muse was there, she's a brunette
and we held hands
And that was enough, her in my mind
as I tossed on the floor

A dimly lit place
a castle perhaps
desires mesh well
with memory lapse

How well the pieces fit!
Perhaps it was too easy, or too perfect.
Easy come, easy go.
Orgasms aren't hard to find.
Yet not everyone can assemble
a puzzle blindfolded, no hesitation.
She spoke, the muse
no words to hear
with all my senses as an ear
a mind as one
another perfect story
hand holding tranquillity

Opening my eyes, a new day emerged
and the muse in her own world.
Impacts made through decades
with these scribbles all unfurled