Eternity is too true to be new,
Like what had wetted her lips,
As the softest gleam I ever knew,
Like two petals,
With one facing towards Heaven,
And the other facing my feet,
At the place she’d occasionally bleed.
Beauty is always bound in the embrace of serenity,
In that lock her and me, knew to be
Both warm and cold, in the warm spring of daffodils,
And the bitter cold of frost.
Bound in the embrace of that serenity,
New drops, from an old heart.
I kiss, and I breathe,
All magnificence on, and from, her mind.
She called herself down to my knees,
Where she kissed my bare feet,
And said to herself, so far as I could hear,
“How does love taste, in all of my years,
When us both have merely fed on tears?”
She bled, once again
Grossly idling about, among the plain,
While all I held, was onto the grain
That held my heart captive, in its wilderness of disdain.
We will each die alone, in our grief,
In its stupor,
In its shelter,
Because, grief defines the closing chapter.