indelible heart-stain
hushed fountains.
the quieted lover rests his face
upon rain-worn stone
a bouquet of trembling lilacs
and impossibly white roses
lay abandoned, sprawled.
for one season he lived
inside an unnameable affair
late suppers at la cantina
clasping wet pearls around her throat
tracing long stemmed roses down her spine
soft lips and softer words.
he did not know how to bury
his heart, how to free himself from
the one person inherently capable
of erasing his childhood terrors,
another being who lives inside the mind
cultivating pieces of torn flesh
shredded clouds giving
birth to dark butterflies. a lover who
kissed the worst parts of his soul
and found them to be
unflawed gems
worthy of cherishing.
Cynthia
9.04.09
