You, Dear
you,
dear
were my depraved,
inelegant
swan.
envisioned in the moonlight -
romanticized,
wearing your cheap,
red lipstick - and
desperate to ravish me.
if you did not love me
the succulent fruit upon
lip and breast would diminish here and now.
i said, what man is without his mistress,
and you smiled, exposing those crooked teeth.
i love you,
much more than i loved you then.
you seem to have adopted the image of an ill bird,
and in my dreams misery has approached you,
shackled you;
condemned you to love a furious man.
i am sorry i could not endure with you,
the tempestuous love for beauty.
i did not wish to search for you,
because i feared that you might be more appealing
with those poignant bruises upon your face,
declaring your mistake.
i remember, in the morning,
your breath was like a toxic thunder,
as you prepared your quivering lips to kiss me,
i did not know i loved you then,
but i love you now.
and when daylight breaks through the aperture of the night, my lovely sin,
i will perish, because even now i love your transparent shadow.
the earth, too, is harsh to me
on burning sunlit mornings - and
i love you today,
much more than i loved you then.
and only on this day i have been told by the wind
that you are alive and well,
but not happy.
Copyright © Lebedyenko Berborodov | Year Posted 2012
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