Alive
Eddie’s voice recoils me to a time
where I can still feel the electric guitar-air
prick on my skin
Where I breathed in
bathed endlessly in euphoric music
Danced to my own body’s rhythm
Where, I was most... alive
In sweet stale air
under a pitched blue ceiling
we journeyed spiralling
Lit by a flood of honeyed streetlamp
Drinking in with fingertips, numb lips
Senses igniting with our every sigh
Here, I was most... alive
Then, the night air was filled with erotic mystery
Even passing car head lights spoke to me of romance
Here, soul-eyes that met mine
were... eager
yearned... incessantly for me
As we lay forever suspended in time
There, I was most... alive
© Debbie Razey 2019 - Violet Moon Poetry
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