Murderer of Love
He stepped into my heart and spirit,
His feet gentle flowery aroma.
He bled his blood into mine
And that sweet scent, increasing.
In my word he was reborn,
A love so pure and tender,
An unhappened happening,
That had to take place somewhere.
He stepped into my light and toyed,
My eyes shimmered in his chuckle.
He held my night inside his thoughts
And made me day-dream as he may.
He stepped outside my fragile body,
In that overwhelming dark.
My carcass,
Just a slight contour,
Started peeling love away.
He stepped outside my heart and spirit,
His feet gentle in their pace.
He bled my blood from his unseen veins,
That sweet scent gradually decreasing.
© 2009 Stefania Carmen Misaila
Copyright © Stefania Carmen Misaila | Year Posted 2009
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