Dysfunctional Curiousity

You’ve left your cold traces all over May. It’s been nearly two years since you wove down the street smelling every single bloom on every single rose you met.

It looks strange now, you said, but nothing will look strange when I’m gone.

Storms took the spreading creeper down; leaves tap the lower window. Roses sweet with aniseed, with peach, with the hollow beneath your ear, stand drenched and wild.

You’ve left your cold traces all over me. It’s been nearly two years. What comes after magical thinking, after rain catching your throat beneath bare skies? The heart

the most brilliant of advice,

but I do have all these tunnels

beneath this skin

for you to bury your emotions in,

or a vast open shore

where the sea used to reside within

made vacant to fill

all of your tears

and your stormy uproar,

All this in case your soul

needs some little unfolding,

and even so,

in replace of the canvas,

perhaps only then will

Safely stays in the heart,

Bound and buried,

Never spoken to the stars,

And yet the heaven knows,

Even what remains untold.

We just won’t be together.

Forever, my love.

We would just never talk,

In words, anymore.

Sweet surrender 🎀 the anticipation of him 🔥 ©2020 The Last of the Romantics