Lover

Smooth black down the seam of her dress-

A hundred years not enough on a grave

when a kiss resurrects your desires for a stone

decorated italics marking all that was done.

Shame and greed, but how love one more kiss

on these lips old and dry, to embrace

one last dance of a beautiful end with no trace

of the who I became and the what I’ll become-

HRios

2 thoughts on “Lover

  1. I missed things like this. My erratic ways bite me sometimes

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