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Description
Loss
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Tears would be locked in golden sachets, held in memory
close to breast. Lovers painted black in canvases of red,
memories drip from cheek translucent clear.It would be,
these dull intimacies, thrown into the fires of passion,
burnt to cinders; ash’s to dust, embraced in the winds of
never was… thrown into a sea of forgotten pasts.

Held in a box, where recollections syrup feeds from maple
memory. As two lovers fade to deciduous grey, separated
hands touch no figment of skin. Just monotonous wind
spraying sand into already wounded eyes. One would fall,
knees and forehead to earthly mother; as the evanescence of
other into transcending red continues. Tears still locked
in golden sachets, forever held in memory close to breast