edge of a whisper -
how deft of you to open up my veins
with little but his name upon your lips
eviscerate the warmth of what remains
the grief of beauty strangled in your grips
no more fallacious kisses will we share
no longer curious, your stayed replies
no mystery, your mess of tousled hair
or still - the moony fervor in your eyes
but one thing, yet, will tantalize me so -
a question that bewilders, you'll agree
is why, with all the time you've had to go
you make him wait to linger here with me?
so, plunge the blade to consecrate your crime ...
but do it slow, and love me ... one ... last ... time.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Beautiful Sadness" Poetry Contest, John Hamilton, Judge & Sponsor.
|