05-15-2014, 12:22 AM
What is the point of love if not to shine upon the loved;
no heads turn now or open eyed, with quickened breath
and trilling pulse, flush with the glow of hearts on fire and blood the fuel?
It is too late to start again, to make new flames with sticks of green;
long years which mellow bright, crisp fruit are not for me, not in my vintage time .
Though noble rot can sweeten up what ought not tempt me, though my eyes
can still caress, no touch of mine will safely find that softness once again.
With purpose dead, all that is left is risqué flattery and hope, but no
not even that…for such is not the love that shines. Another hides
behind the watery eyes, and dare not speak and must not speak;
This is the greatest loss of all, when days with names we can’t recall
begin to count each night away, we best forget not just the days,
but what love ever meant…when last it shone our way.
Tectak
2014
no heads turn now or open eyed, with quickened breath
and trilling pulse, flush with the glow of hearts on fire and blood the fuel?
It is too late to start again, to make new flames with sticks of green;
long years which mellow bright, crisp fruit are not for me, not in my vintage time .
Though noble rot can sweeten up what ought not tempt me, though my eyes
can still caress, no touch of mine will safely find that softness once again.
With purpose dead, all that is left is risqué flattery and hope, but no
not even that…for such is not the love that shines. Another hides
behind the watery eyes, and dare not speak and must not speak;
This is the greatest loss of all, when days with names we can’t recall
begin to count each night away, we best forget not just the days,
but what love ever meant…when last it shone our way.
Tectak
2014