Liars and Lovers and Friends and Honest Johns

The rain falls coldly outside, chilly as my heart is warm,
Who whispers in hollow breaths, sadly whimpers
at the grim caress given at Reality's behest.
Sometimes it seems that the dark is closing in,
but a tad too quickly, for nightfall nor twillight,
and yet too slow, to gradual to detect with a casual eye,
an uncaring shrug cast in the face of the gale
a tumbled umbrella lying bereft
of a noble owner to hold it aloft,
it's purpose ultimately defeated
by the whim and caprice of
which Humanity has never lacked.

Poetry is hiding from me today,
and yet I smell her sweet perfume, that beguiling scent
of fragrant sweat, the animal within aroused,
keeping still-seeming passions lingering,
in the still humid air tha's Spring's beget.
Orgasmic silence - now that's the word!
A word you can but taste with the very tip of your tongue,
though held but loosely by the savor of release,
It quickly dwindles but is easily summoned back,
For the homeward bound is a familiar track...