Quench

At the bottom of the marble stairs,
I trust you.

You'll protect me from the devil. 
I'll hide you from nightmares.

With each falling leaf,
What is it that you dream of?

My parched chest
Thirsty
To listen to your stories?
My myths?
Your forgotten wombs?
Cold stars?
My intimacy laced through your tattoos?
Handmade loves unlike artificial fairytales?

In this unadulterated love affair
Between poetry and me, 
Are you 
The metaphor?

We'll quench our souls 
With sacred tonic 
That pours from the clouds.

At the bottom of the marble stairs, once again, 
Trust me.