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She visits me only underneath a disguise of darkness.
I get shunned with the rising of the sun, as if the shame
is too much to part with.
While disheartened by her contrition, I gladly pardon the conditions
just to spend minutes under her glow, to see her part with her inhibitions and
let us grow, however slowly, and to let her know I desire her for much more
than can be offered to me through vision.
Her visits seem fleeting, each meeting over in the blink of an eye.
I'm left just on the brink of delight. My heart sinks with each goodbye.
Together, we drink of the night, but at dawn I feast alone.
Before we can reach the unknown, the sun always seems to beat us home,
leading us to our own seperate ever after; her's heaven, mine hell.
And what was time well spent, becomes nothing more than series of overexposed images,
her face all thats left behind.
A new pain takes effect as I throw curses to the sky, as high as my words can fly.
Damn the sun and its pride, its envy of the light she provides.
Again, I close my eyes, but her disguise has been compromised.
The day has taken from me what the night created, and my only wish
is to be sedated.
Wake me when the light has faded. Better yet, let me rest.

---Eric Haywood