First poem after a long break. Be gentle, but firm.
**
NOTE: THIS IS DRAFT 2!
On the wall, two shadows stand staggered
In the silence of the eleventh hour,
Our cigarettes crackle with each inhalation
In-rhythm, we stand silent
One shadow presses the cement wall,
Its back curved, a perfect S
The other, broad shouldered,
Steps forward and merges with the other silhouette
This speaks louder than our words
His blue eyes catch mine
And my breath stops, breaks our beat
Suddenly its like I'm standing ankle deep in freezing cold water
The smoke from my Black stings my eyes, but I can't look away
I could stand there all night, the moon over head
Eyes and shadows stuck
The smell of cloves on our skin
