Skip to page content
Return to Top


Adam Smith


Come with me to that secret place
That only you and I imagine, where
No one but its two prisoners can ever go.

Through darkness I grope towards you, feeling
That lonesome cry that triggers remembrance
Of where we met before, vague recollections dipped
In honeysuckle fragrance, intoxicating memories that only let
Us taste the tiniest, teasing drop of desire.

And when I reach you we cling together and
Press tear-stained lips until I whisper
A thousand sweet ecstasies to the ticklish spot
Below your left ear. And I wrestle
With the honeysuckle to rule your senses,
Then I find myself caught by shivering hands...
I love being your prisoner.
But suddenly we lose control of momentary truth
And reality vanishes to fantasy before I find
Myself without you again.

I know you are waiting for me
Wanton for what binds us together in
That place that only you and I imagine.
And one day I’ll break these cords and
Find you forever, and reality will finally know
How the sun could be jealous of the moon