Desolate Temptation

She calls to me with ice blue lips,
a breath’s caress against my cheek.
At the edge of sight, shadows creep.
I plunge into sapphire silence.
Drifting now, descending,
drowning in the cobalt bruise.
Glancing back, my eyes skip
across frigid shafts of light, translucent,
feeble under the press of this cerulean gloom.
Just one exhale, one raw gasp,
and I slip, numb, into her callous embrace.

©T.Lynn Smith 2009