What had been lifted,
Is now fallen
Upon the fields where there used to sprout yellow,
And now only sprouts the red of shame.
What was once golden in the light of companionship
Is now a feeble mess of disgrace.
We had danced
Beneath the whip of survival.
Sought to kiss, beyond the waves and the endless morrows.
We had sailed
Under choirs that called for life
To come to our hearts, by the touch of our hands.
Love is that mark upon our watchful eyes.
For I marked every curve that entrenched itself
In your wondrous form.
I saw with astonishment
The beauty you folded over me
And went down to kiss it, to never leave it.
But, to break an obstacle, means to border on obsession;
To kill a problem, means to forget sanity;
To deny myself, means to forsake eternity.
I was in love, with a woman.
And now, she is broken, within,
Like two hands that never met.
Like two hands that never slept
In the other,
Where love and bliss was kept,
Because, that brokenness was the irreparable wound.
What can I save, now,