In the Darkness, on The Longest Night

Strange is the shape that intimacy takes,
sitting there in the darkness,
as the joyful waves of music wash over us.

I sit, with my legs angled away from you,
as if to say to all sitting in the darkness,
"see, she is not mine... she is another's".

Yet as I lean away, I want to lean in the other direction,
like a moth drawn to the flame in the darkness
towards the heat of your thigh and your breath.

The brush of your forearm as we silently share
that midwinter music, there in the darkness
made all the more exquisite in your company.

You lean your face into the nape of my neck,
your hot breath like a lover in the darkness
and whisper your shared secret:

"The concertina player was my lover... we played croquet".