Something about the way your hand moved against <br />the moonstone of my cheek, as we stood amidst a world <br />of curious eyes- people, who would have damned us <br />had they known I was your lover, not your wife. <br />And when the evening shadows began their entry, <br />every streetlight acted as a jealous God <br />who would stop at nothing to expose our sin. <br />It was Saturday, at the end of that cul de sac <br />and we watched as stars drank so much sky <br />they started to dance a waltz of insanity, <br />and my mind, I have to admit <br />stumbled around in my head, like an alcoholic <br />who had made it a lifelong practice of abusing the bottle. <br />Or maybe it was just the way you looked at me <br />with those infinite eyes, as though you were seeing something <br />beyond what 23 years can create; perhaps the woman <br />you had loved for lifetimes, before and after our banishment <br />and the scars of the flaming swords.<br /><br />Amberlee Carter<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-parking-lot/
