Lesbian Poetry

The Last Whisper

She seemed so far away
The last time we lay, under the stars
Which we'd painted on our ceiling.

The excruciating ecstasy of those last
Moments of bliss, the whisper kiss of
Passions flowering upon blushing warm skin,
Tight under fingertips urgent caress.

When in that halting moment in time,
Neither speaking only seeking the bloom
Of love on the others cheek,
We lay under the stars on our ceiling
The last time so much like the first.

And, in silent moments alone under the stars
Still painted on my ceiling,
I imagine her right here beside me
Looking up at the stars
All cracked and peeling,
As that moment fades with the last whisper

"I'm leaving."