Faint candle light breaks the darkness surrounding her face.
Failing red flickers above sound morphine alarms in warning.
Lips of flushed addiction enlist my own in harmony divine.
A wilting flower her petals succumb to the white-burn,
as her threads fall to entangle her delicate feet restraining her motion.
How my heart howls from within this hollow haven of demise.
Desire for bare aberrant flesh descending from another celestial cradle.
Alas the clement whispering touch sets the pulse serene,
where the madness subdues then yet another beckons forth.
One of lovely lunacy where an interloper uncovers its sudden fate.
This wanting caress followed by the aching tears traversing her breasts,
obliterates my thought then soon transcends into a vestige of reverie.
Where upon my eyes unstitch to find this intimacy merely a glimmer;
of fire elegantly diminished before this longing sight.
Birthed solely by the throb of my bleeding being fastened to my chest;
and a candle’s flame that burns just as all the rest.
She stares at the pieces.
Hoping that someday they will find their way back together.
With her red-stained hands she desperately attempts to reassemble the shattered puzzle.
However, pieces are missing.
Silent rogues long gone and far away.
Left behind with only remnants of a magnificent creation.
She’s trembling and her eyes are sore.
Minutes become seconds.
The second ends and still nothing.
It may take awhile…
He stands in the middle of a junkyard.
Miles of rust and trash used and discarded,
eventually being remade and brought here again.
He sifted through the garbage searching..
He pulled out a wrapped cloth stained a dark red,
then a small and brown leather journal,
and finally a ring.
He sat down in the dirt sorting the three items in a line,
observing each with care until it became frustrating.
He paced back and forth, back and forth,
feeling incompetent and puzzled.
Finally he sat with his back turned towards them.
Three days passed… four… then ten.
On the eleventh day he stood weary and picked the three items back up and took them home.
He laid them across his bed and then laid down himself.
He read through the journal while the time passed by him.
It only took a day but once he was finished he was no longer puzzled and he never returned to the junkyard, neither did his gifts.