beams

Christmas Beams

This duality becomes me,
or so I am told.

But we�re lying to ourselves
lying here on this bed,
this bed, where I touch myself
and you touch myself
and I pray that your hands will not linger.

Skin touching skin, touching fingertips,
fingertips laid across pretty lips.
A smile in the morning beams.

It becomes you, this duality
or so I've explained.

We are dull in the morning light,
like strings of last years popcorn on a withering tree.