Unsent Letter of Samson For Delilah(Crumpled and Torn)

Dearest, There would be no nightfalls thereunto your eyes but partly goosebumps nor would be nightscapes along your brows even an inch above their shorelines where darkness heaves no. When shadows dance in tip-toed pirouette to the tune of your hairfall whose breaths breathe nothing but the fumes from your sigh. You are but a psalm the Tibetan monks hymn and a mantis prays with a vengeance for three full moons bedecked with diphthongs and rhymes only to show beyond doubt that every squint of the lids of your eyes is proof of all the gods' existence. There are no sundowns thereunder your limbs but scarcely woundscars nor dimlights throughout the length of your nape all the more onto its coastline where thoughts bloom. When crickets perch and croon whose hymn chants heretofore each syllable of your name. My breathe rests each time your eyes meet mine, my love, for nothing falls thereto except my heart. Tears herewith, Samson Author's note: Finalist September Poetrysoup International Poetry Contest Contest Sponsor: Poetrysoup