XLIII

byLauren Hynde©

 

    Beauty crowds me till I die,
    Beauty, mercy have on me!
    But if I expire today,
    Let it be in sight of thee.

       - Emily Dickinson
 

Maybe I shouldn't
speak of the time that ages
of the mouth disenchanted by time
maybe the pose of a dance
is a map I cannot read.

Nobody dies of absence
of a paradise decanted
nobody can decipher
the colour blue
of your dreams and tears.

I know that hair
cannot be this blonde
mask and primitive alphabet
of a single syllable
of what a woman feels.

It's not the lovers that love
nor the gods that decipher
it's the horses that draw
in vague transparencies
the lost map of paradise.

 

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byLauren Hynde© 3 comments/ 2908 views/ 0 favorites

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