The Penultimate Pleasures

A Beach Themed Futon

I walk through our time spent together
(Singing a coquettish tune)
and it's like the joy I remember as a girl putting my barefoot in that socastee marsh.
Maybe that's why the fires of our youth grow cold
I can't remember the last time I stuck my feet in the marsh.
I can only remember a similar feeling and it's when I'm with you.
Maybe the simulacrum of enjoyment is nostalgia,
But what if it's not that entirely
What if it's abandonment?
Not abandoning each other, but abandoning the ought.
I ought not stick my foot in the salt and slime
I ought not sully my clothes and people think me a fool.
I ought not throw my fixation onto another so my eyes can begin again with tears after the honeymoon eclipses.
Ought...has a time and place but nought must then have its day as well if this is to be true.
And I've gone two weeks with you slipping in and out like the ebb and flow of time from the frontlet of mind.
My prayer is it hasn't been for nought
When I gaze into your eyes I see a starry dynamo that glisters all of its brilliance at once.
When your words are uttered I feel raptured away to some unseen other.
When I hold your hand I hear cosmic shoutings and feel otherworldly vibrations 
Maybe I should tarry in this abandonment a while longer.