Bring me no dark.
I am of good supply.
No painted smiles
or bogus bonhomie.

In visits past
I have seen,
in your well meaning fakery,
knitted brows in unguarded moments.

No need to work that hard,
my dearest.
If you are in shadow,
or even if not,
just sit by me.
Warm me.
Say little.

I do know you.
We have history.

Just touch.
Only touch.

It may be that we two
could shine a light
of sorts,
in here.