Lighthouse Poem by David Johnson

I first trace your mouth with my thumb.
The velvet lace of skin that finds nourrishment
when layed upon the lips of mine.
Your lips divide, delivering a candied voice
that, anchored in my ears
would rock the ship of fear
when I lay alone at night.
For all those nights when your memory
offered me more pain than pleasure,
and my sweat filled the bed
like a salted ocean wet,
and my dreams saw the lighthouse
go dark and ships
found rocky shoals
to sink to depths.