Sixteen summers in bloom

As always: deep twilight, 
my room—an echo chamber, 
where shadows cocoon me, 
the radio hums with the 70s soul, 
his voice—soft velvet of my heart. 

Fingers dance across the dial, 
searching for that familiar pulse, 
searching for a tantalizing note, 
a siren call to restless hearts. 
He speaks of stars like lovers lost. 

I am sixteen summers in bloom,   
caught in the amber of longing;   
his sighs wrap around my spine—   
a warm embrace from years ahead. 
Mysterious man on airwaves blurred.   

With every sigh that spills through static, 
he sends me to worlds where I linger,   
drifting through nebulas of thought;   
time twists and tangles our fates—   
an unspooled thread yet to weave.   

I lean closer as he whispers secrets;   
in this midnight sanctuary we share—   
seductive stories laced with tease,   
my pulse quickens at his every pause:   
Will he know me? Will I dare?   

Wishes rise from midnight shadows; 
my heart a compass spinning wild—   
tonight's reverie holds tomorrow’s promise:    
to meet him one day, no matter what,    
to meet him—if only to let him ruin me.

[2011/2015]