Rose of Thorns
Bound by love, your prisoner, distraught and lonely, I wait for you. My present
being, yearning for us, tortured, time stands still as our acquaintance subdue. At
the beach, nigh to the dunes, was our Eden, where you, my flower bloomed.
You were the pain, my last chance-dire. From my whole, you remained at our
wake, the caroling water of dreams. We're shoreline deep, and, in the sand, our
bodies remain. This is our sanctuary, or so it seems, until we bleed away.
In our youth, the sun smiled upon us, two innocents among the sinful tide. Your
smile, the true sunrise to my days, awoke me from a dream. Shy and timid, I
waited for you under the setting sun everyday. Holding hands, we confided in one
another, confessing our fears and pain. As the evenings gently caressed the
days from their stature, the moon lit our nights and the stars caught our eyes as
they fell towards each other.
The moon Shone like a precious fire on our wounds endless ires. And, to be
frank, I could not speak. From my lips to your cheek, seconds that were
moments, I was afraid. Like a child visiting the ocean for the first time, my touch
refrained. I steadily explored your currents pull. Its strength consumed my
tireless whims. Like a blade, smooth and clean, we sunk core-deep and fell into
each other until only one remained.
Precious memories, so long ago, fallen from Eden, I can’t let go. Into the sea, my
eyes gaze at what was once a boundless beauty to I, but now as gray as a
wounded soul, it beckons me towards a watery grave.
My head is a specter lost in a maze of lies looking for you. It gazes at paths once
walked in the light of innocence. Now, subdued, I float, sometimes in rage.
There's only one thing that remains true. Your beauty makes me want to lose my
virtues.
Waves of memories break in a hypnotic pattern; times of frolic betray their first
intentions, spiraling my heart downward. Words of infidelity stain the paper in my
hands, telling me to wait for one last dream, a nightmare. So as I read, I wait, like
I had done so many times before, for you, not a flower, but a rose of thorns.
In a mirror, much like a pool, my fingers scratch the surface and sink through. I
can touch our times and look back on them, but I can't explain why I can't fall in
love again, not with you. You whispered my name and turned away. Until the
end, we were friends, until the end, over and over again. Like a flower, I've wilted,
wilted in shame.
Copyright © Michael Guerra | Year Posted 2005
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