Intimate relationships are never easy to sustain; conjugal passion, even less so. Still, we make it work.
By Susan Creamer Joy - Monday 05 Sep 2011
Extracted from my sleep I disavow
The conjugal mystique behind his bliss
What alabaster prayer can stop it now; that trace of rage unfurled within my kiss?
This life, with dreaming dormant through the day, has sanctuary sacred in the night, whose funding of forgiveness strips away the rancor I exhibit as delight.
But now redemptive pleasure takes me in and holds tomorrow as I hold my breath
Recovering the mask beneath my sin
I dance with silence like I’d dance with death.
Yet by the prick of dawning I atone
‘Tis best to dance with sorrow than, alone.