Notes: My first Bat/Gordon anything and it's freeverse/drabble-esque. Your comments are welcome.
I.
Batman haunts
Gordon's city and
his dreams,
inky cape, inky eyes
What Gordon would give
to lick ink off those lips,
to undo the Kevlar
and kiss a trail down
pectorals and scar tissue
and rest his weary head
against a bruised thigh,
whisper promises
and apologies against
pale skin, paler still
under the stark lights
of an interrogation room.
II.
Or his too-empty
master bedroom
that still smells of Barbara
and her perfume,
the floral scent
still clings to his coat,
under the smoke and stale beer
and the faint tang of blood
when black-gloved
fingers grabbed
at the cheap wool
In half-unconscious
desperation.
When he misses
the sound of Jimmy
and Babs in the den
or the laughing tracks
of Barbara's soaps,
he presses his face
into the fabric
Letting the guilt
and scents cover him
like a cape,
like night come undone.
III.
But he's long become
accustomed to
wanting, wishing, waiting
Waiting
beside smashed plates and searchlights.