Second Hand Lust

Two strangers together

in the night’s cold heat,

… that was the beginning.

Sharing warm breath,

escaping in passion,

as sweating bodies

cooled in the morning sun.

… that was the second time.

Since then to now,

night’s cold darkness

crossed over into morning

of the sun’s cold heart

as many days have passed

a lonely crossing.

… there has been no other time.

Two strangers no longer;

rather passing through time,

as well known, yet distant friends.

As days’ pass,

passing conversation

of what happened in separate lives;

being constantly polite,

never really knowing why.

… perhaps there might be another time.

No, I think not.

Like passing conversation,

so too, was the thought.

… but maybe. Just maybe.