On This, The Last Night Of Our World Poem by John F. McCullagh

On this, the Last night of our world
We, together, naked, lay
Upstairs in your parents house
in the middle of the day.


Our ship has sailed- and without us
Future joys now chimeras
and your oft mischievous eyes
are brimful with incipient tears.


Our intercourse, just whispers, there
Your hand rests casually on my thigh
Although you are warm to my touch
I spurn the urge to spend and die.

Another love has staked its claim
A shadow cast upon our sun
This parting will forever last
Our Stage Romance has had its run.

Later when I'm home alone
I pour myself another drink
And mourn my loss, the perfect girl
on this, the last night of our world.