A thousand times, had you
Rested your cheek, soft as silk
Against mine,
A surface smoother than the reddest of wines
And warmer
Than the sweetest of milks.
Had this been
One of those thousand times
It would have been
A thousand lines
A thousand nights
Easier
To leave this plethora of
Blood and bones broken
and regrets unspoken
behind.
But you took that away with you.
Sigh.
A thousand years before, I was yours.
A thousand years hence, I am yours.
What has changed
Is the way my breaths
rest against your cheek,
A feather upon a nest,
And don't bounce back, and settle abreast
Of the cripple I've become, depressed and weak,
Staying, as sawdust, stinging and sweet-
My defeated breaths against your cheek.
So take my breath away, sweetest of wines
It is of no use to me,
Don't let the signs
Of wombs and tombs
Wound your mind.
You were and will always be
The woman without melancholy
Lighting the world, lighting my word
In a paradise, clean of wound and worry.
A woman without melancholy
Resting beneath my puddle of grief
As a lone cuckoo in the halcyon sky
Croons her final lullaby
And flies away, alone, free.
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Blots
Poetry[On hold] Key: |Straight Brackets| - Poetry. \Tilted Brackets/ - Passionate, Vaguely Poetic Prose or Free Verse. ~Wave Brackets~ - Poetry specifically between 1 and 3 sentences in length. ☆☆ For everyone, Who finds, Not in a graveyard or cretamorium...
