A Poem: Night Arrives

Night arrives
with a murderous swarm of fog;
the death of autumn in my soul.

I search for you,
a mist of burnt sage and sweat
inside the shadows of moonlight
that taunt the satin of our bed.

Lust is the vapor we inhale,
as you impale me with
the rot of manhood;
the beginning and now the end.

Wisps of heat rise
touching mist of night
and I die a little death

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First poem I've written in ages. Funny how being a little horny can twist a perfectly good start of a poem into something carnal and decadence.