midnight wish

open palms, wet with
salt of sweat and tears,
reach out outside as
glass pane’s fog clears,

like a yearning new branch
of a house-caged vine
bending, sneaking,
reaching out for sun,

these palms, brined with
my excreted liquids stretch out
to feel the breath of
the cold December wind,

wishing this same
midnight breeze has
kissed your oh,
so, calm sleeping face.

in one brush of air, floating,
against my skin, waiting,
i can be with you,

at least.

—

12.06.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

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For he who has loved me wholly, written while listening to Ed Sheeran’s Autumn Leaves.