07-15-2016, 05:27 AM
I will never dance with Byron, lame in glorious Eden,
never sink into the marble of Levantine passion
or bleed in the bed of a half-remembered lover.
I will never breathe saltwater, never twine
my hair around another's neck, never sit
alone in a cellar and write until my fingers wear away.
No soaring elegy to me will echo across time
to be etched upon a locket. Please,
plant for me a single rose, whose fragrance
may one day bring a sigh to the lips of lovers
my words will never reach.
never sink into the marble of Levantine passion
or bleed in the bed of a half-remembered lover.
I will never breathe saltwater, never twine
my hair around another's neck, never sit
alone in a cellar and write until my fingers wear away.
No soaring elegy to me will echo across time
to be etched upon a locket. Please,
plant for me a single rose, whose fragrance
may one day bring a sigh to the lips of lovers
my words will never reach.
It could be worse