Forgotten midnight shadows
through my empty room.
No touch is as cold
as this of my loyal visitor.
Draped in silent moonlight
and bejewelled in funereal black
my friend, the night
brings me armfuls of tears
and garlands of sighs.
With serpentine languor
and furtive attentions,
my Nightwing companion
takes me by the hand,
surrounds
me
enfolds me
annoints me with regrets.
We dance, Nightwing and I,
through lost, dark realms
we hardly know.
The blush of his flesh
glows palest grey.
The rush
in his veins
is wise
and deathly sharp.
The tender gazing in his eyes,
I cannot
and will not
deny.
