The Fault
To lie in vain to rest
in a bed beautified by flowers,
was not at ease nor peace.
As the frequent flowering
to a hearts grave
was of the bride married to its death.
She who made my love selfish
to cage a heart in its chest,
and love only by flesh
to cherish to perish love's delights.
BITTER SWEET
Now it art in deep soils of the grave.
Only water was at need,
And the mother earth breast fed
all its need and craves.
Breaking the water, due was a heart
moving in a heart called a home.
UNBROKEN IN VULNERABILITY
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