Winters
Winters
When the last vestige of
trust is broken...the heart
wavers into a slow rhythm
of dying.
And you faded like a night,
into an emotional darkness,
bringing with you the hint
of your singular fragrance,
the flutter of your dark
eyelashes.
I burned my midnight candle
looking for you in the wrinkles of time.
But you were not there.
You were not in word,
not even between words.
I have tried to unravel your
footprints in the skin of
stone, but it did not reveal
the latency of your face.
Oh Eurydice, in what sand
does your seed grow?
From there I will stay on
bended knees, invoking
your return. Wine toxic me.