Razor's Edge

What you did
was not love
but a gesture
towards a dream,
a cautious stir
in the cauldron
of your rejections.
`Twas but a moan
from that funny ol' bone
of desire....rare gooseflesh
on the arms of routine.
Was nary a soft,
a soft reminder
of flattened grass,
of blushing fingertips
tracing tender paths.
Instead ,it was heard
as a stealthy slide,
a sibilant whisper
in soft conched ears
of sleeping innocence.
And I ,precarious ,
on the edge of choice,
pondered but a moment,
let go, and fell,
like gravity's apple,
on the head of need.....