I am prey upon the shore
A smile gilds his face as splintered sunlight dances across the sand
"The evening's almost here," he says, "...twilight a whispered promise"
His voice was liquid and warm. I am drunk in its headiness
Waves gently lap against my feet, emotion carried on the tides
The currents shift and the air smells of lightning after a storm

The sunlight crowns him as he looks upon me
I drown in the lucidity of his eyes
He lightly traces a finger across my skin
A trail of fervor wending in its wake
My name is on his breath as he brushes my hair aside

"Feeling is," he says, "...an impression gained from touch"
Pleading, giving, wanting, dying
"Life is...," he says
Unfurling, falling, needing, aching
"...not the breath you take"
Staccato beat, tender warmth, the sea is on fire
"...but the moments that take your breath"

He comes to me then, his kiss brazen like the sun as it explodes and
melts into a glorious golden cacophony of sound and light
Pinpoints of light dance in my eyes giving way to the curtain of night
He's gone, dissolved into the liquid gold of the setting sun
Breath stolen, tears of longing falling upon my feverish face
I am prey upon the shore, yearning for morrow's dusk

Penned by my hand on the 13th of Tenebrae, in the year 453 AD.