The Night Poem by Inigo Rivera

The night and her dress of pitch black feathers
are waiting for us to step forward.
She reaches for our hand,
inviting us to dance,
and dance
and dance.
With the soft music of her breathing on our ear
while we dance
and dance
and dance.
Dancing with the night might be dangerous,
thrilling,
passionate.
Embracing her sure is deadly,
somnific,
as the smell of that one flower my eyes once watched evaporating.
The night is a flower of white eye and nocturne lashes
who reminds me of your lusting silence.
The night is mysterious
just as your smile the last time I dared to glance at you.
The night is mine
and still not mine.
She’s free.
She’s all I ever wanted or wished for,
more than I have ever been.
The night is a pale lady with a thick veil covering up her face and her white lips.
She’s the kiss of madness which makes us choke.
The awaited deliverer of dreams.
She’s the wolf.
She’s the shelter for those of us who are too scared to close their eyes.

And we are her lovers
and she loves to play with us.