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Love lingers long into the night

(Definitely not AI)
 

What can she have been thinking? Why had she

Bid him go so early? Why had she suddenly cut

Short the evening? Why the excuses? Why the

Pretence? Did she seek to hurt him and in so doing

Hurt herself? A brief mood, a short-lived vexation

Perhaps? Whatever the reason, it certainly did the

Trick, for hurt it did, more than she bargained for,

And very likely, more than she ever imagined it

Would; how he felt, she could only guess.
 

In the bedroom, love was in the air, and on the air,

The promising, nay fulfilling, signature of ROJA

PARFUMS ‘A Goodnight Kiss’, what man would

Not succumb to such a fragrance? A full-length

Mirror bore the contemplative reflection of a woman

In a state of some remorse presently occupied in

The art of disrobing, imagining her lover still present,

Still sat in the French salon chair she kept by her

Dressing table. She sought to tease and to please

The mirage of the man she loved, now gone, yet

Still present in her mind’s eye, and the slower the

Better she thought, given the very little she had on.
 

What a fool she had been, what a night to have wasted.

A lover nearby, a lover excited and thrilled by her every

Move, wanting, but not yet able to take, desire and

Consent, hunger and haste, a recipe to be savoured,

What she had in mind was only now coming to light,

Albeit a little too late.
 

Oh, if only her were here, here in the flesh, here in

Body and mind, for there as so much to see, so

Much to love, less so very much the mother of

More. Silk of the finest transparency materialized

From an ornate drawer, and standing naked for a

Moment, she slipped into a shadow of a garment

So sheer that when pressed against flesh modesty

Immediately surrendered to the will of the heart

And the hand.
 

For all its artful ways in matters of seduction, chiffon

Finally and silently fell to earth, of little use now,

Save that of self-adoration, and with the approaching

Dawn, a distant clock gave notice of the hour, the night

Had slipped away and her cobweb of a nightdress its

Ability to keep a lady from her rest. Love had lingered

Long into the night, and all that now remained was a

Wish for better things tomorrow, certain that an injured

Heart be consummately repairable in light of the night

To come, chiffon, the expeditor of all his dreams.
 

© Joseph G Dawson