Poem – “When Love Rains Down Against my Temples” – 8/17/2019

I could see the necessity in wishing to know,
The love I’ve come to commit to my own atrocity.

My beauty, you have exquisiteness in every breath,
And a mark upon your shoulder has been to count,
Each subtle sigh under morning light,
In before I come to share my place near your death.

Love at my left hand, and my hope in the right.
I am a man of many angles,

And many divides to count for too many.
There has been desertion staining our hearts,
And now I find myself wanting.
“For what?” I ask, and then I comprehend it:

I am in awe for the woman who hasn’t rested,
Has been afield in the work of too many men,

Too many droplets of salt, have played a part on your stress,
Come to me, dear woman, when you’ll feel yourself
Wanting to fall, and create an imprint
Of yourself in the soil.

A devil had made this world,
And there is indeed purpose among it.
But, to find myself more wanting,
For the angelic tears that make a journey,
Across your withered cheeks,
Makes me find more meaning.

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