She slept in the hollow of his side,
The bend of their bodies matched:
Two twin concave crescents,
Breathing in sync.
In the air, the essence
Of something irreparable:
A shattered crystal vase.
The sudden realization
That you can’t deal back change.
Moments before, she sang to him,
Come in to me and I
will open as a rose,
Palms outstretched in
sacramental ceremony,
Submerge you in
undulating chambers
Of crimson memory.
I’ll let my cold
premonitions
Recede into temporal
bliss,
Where “forever” is a
hollow promise
Spelled in sand and
played on
By changing winds.
Come in to me and you
will know
My charcoal nights.
Hold me.
Stay a while.
In moments, soft,
Always your ghosts trailing ten feet behind.
--Alicia
