by Niko Eden
I came to know you in the hours
where all nocturnal things find their place.
The pitter patter of candescent hues banks across the asphalt,
illuminating stories one shadow at a time.
The light catches the damnedest things.
But not us.
your hand moves away from the small of my back and the entanglement of my hair.
We move extensions of ourselves like the life of the ocean floor, back into our body.
I came to know you away from everything and surrounded by everyone.
It was a simple kind of nothingness, where the shadows allot secrets.
Without the precision of a routine we find one another where the night cloaks moans, the rip of rigger’s belts and buttons undone.
I think of the parts of me that long for you with undo wanting.
I’ve not tired of knowing you.
The quiet offerings of your flavor rest easily on my lips.
I revisit you, this flavor, this scent.
I’ve not tired of knowing you.
Pockets of light mirror the suggestion of dawn across the desert floor.
These are the hours I learned you, and how the crickets danced for us.
I’ve not tired of knowing you
Niko Eden is an active duty service member who just received an Expeditionary Medal for her tour in Saudi Arabia. She has been published in journals such as Bahia Magazine and Dillydoun Review and is pursuing a degree at Brandman University.