Poem – “Wishing for Return” – Romanticism – 12/6/2020

You held stones
Cold, around your neck,
Blowing kisses to candles
To burn out the wicks.
You were not going to die,
Not meaning to quit,
For you thought of my return.

You thought of water to run down
Tear-smoothed cheeks,
Much as the stones to your throat.
You thought that illness
Would evaporate to a thin cloud,
Soon as I carried back
A platter with a heart,
Still beating,
Though cracked.

You wished for vapors
To send you guidance,
The sicknesses to mark your trail
Of dreams, in the open field
Where the past would be as hideous
As myself,
As the arrangement of panic
On the wash of rain
Upon my broken shelter.

One by one,
Fragility feasts on the last
Teardrop to come.
Drenched of your sadness,
Quickened of your sharpness,
An eyesight so sore,
You knew I was no more.

I was no more tolerant
To the disaster,
Than the floods you lift
To reveal the ruins
Caught between your fingers
And hair.

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