Ode to the Dying Night

Morning, good! 
The dying night 
I cry for, 
it drags away
my dreams with it, 
to purgatory,
where the lust
is retained,
desires n myths too.
And purity?
That's purged 
in a summer bonfire. 

The Night Rain

The droplets on
your neck
glow in the dark,
sway with the tunes,
I wipe the trickle
with my lips.

It rained,
in a dream,
on the balcony,
cleansing the tan;
all white and misty
when the morning
rays overwhelmed
the red, scented candle
I left burning,
by our bed, last night.

Pic: Wallpaperest.com