There are words unsaid beyond and between us,
left with last night in shaded corners.

Pressed into the walls with drunken desperation

are our confessions

quivering with lust and earnest intent

to follow through on more than just our gut.

Because even in the shadows beneath your eyes

I saw promises and in the razor texture

of that morning’s shave I tasted expectations

based on nothing but the sultry gaze 

of whiskey licking the Shuswap’s surface.

The naked light shimmered as we listened 

to water french-kissing fiberglass boats
and our hot whispers were crickets to the sounds

of our lake making-love to herself in earnest

while our intentions were left unread and stamped

across our foreheads.

As we fumbled and felt
against wood panels
and tequila I left the impression 

of smoke upon your lips
and you stayed your fingertips looking
for more of me and less of words unsaid
between us about what lies

beyond shaded corners and the desperate
lake love-making. 

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