Fulcrum of a Rose
Fulcrum of a Rose
A lambent sight, my morning star,
sweet essence on my tongue.
A mem'ry stirred—those bygone days,
a secret love so young.
That lambent sight, my nostrils seared,
trust wrought of hope and fear.
She loves me so, she loves me not—
I beg I pray, my dear.
I wonder whence this essence comes—
I close my eyes, breathe deep.
From time and space. A higher realm.
A tunnel one-way steep.
One velvet scale, droplets of dawn
falls—spirit rent in two,
Another pluck, my fingers twitch—
mere instants born anew.
I fear to count how many drop—
worse, how many remain.
That smell so sweet, now on the floor,
unraveled till insane.
Red petals, damn filthy petals!
Your right to choose, I do revoke!
I swear it on her name.
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