You were not meant to be
A god’s pet or a priest’s belief.
You were meant to be reborn
In arms as broken as yours.
Strained wrists, palms are torn,
While waters exit from eyes
To see the same sort of skies.
While the world uncovers
Shredded skin, dusted flesh
Beneath sheets atop bed of death –
Love reveals a grave reality
That nothing sworn to can be symmetry.
Her insecurity weeps the pages to turn
To an ending as disappointing
As the forgetful beginning.
Still to love for the stagnant
Arrangement in everything elegant.
Even as winter sits with patience
Upon her shoulders, filling presence –
While these arms cannot be mended.
Lift her veil to see diamond-
Shaped tears, pledging a course
Towards trembling lips.
Kiss her in the cold air.
Never mend her, never send her
To anything blissful
As an occupied Heaven.