I Must Not Taste Your Tears
I know the bitterness
Of your soul,
I must not taste your tears-
To know.
It is clear in your weary-
Beautiful eyes,
And more scary-
To me you become when you put on the mask of smiles.
I must not feel-
The dampness of your pillow-
To know your heart was the kill-
Of sorrow.
Its a battle for a throne-
Between angels and demons.
I need not see smoke nor pick a bone-
On the battle field nor hear shooting guns.
I set my canoe adrift-
On the flooding water of your tears.
I paddle to your abode the pace of a swift.
As a love drunk amour deaf to the cries of his fears.
O that you will melt on my shoulder-
Emotions molten in a great heat-
My obliging soul let your anguish smoulder.
Do not go to the cave of your thighs to have your face concealed.
I curse my idle hands-
Each time I watch your tears-
Your troubled cheeks caress
With jealousy so bizarre-
I burn my hankerchief with a stare-
For a stolen chance to care.
You are not weeping-
Laughter is only sweeping.
You are not crying-
Laughter is only purifying-Her golden vessel with a rough sponge so hurting.
O! let time do the telling-
Of the dark metamorphosis of night to morning.
Copyright © Martins Deep | Year Posted 2018
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