Thorns on a rose

Mayhap she knew, mayhap she did not,
She was the apple of my eye, or
A fruit called obsession, ripe yet firm
And plump ready for pluckin’.
Her eyes reminding me of our first date,
Hide-n-Seek in downtown drunk lit alleys,
Stalking the night as I whispered her gifts,
Lurking behind the intimacy of a pole…

Mayhap she felt, mayhap she did not, 
The alcohol sting of our chemical romance,
Stealing her conscious like she stole my heart,
Falling into my arms like she fell into my Reality.
“Stop,” I tell her doll eyes, “we’re moving too fast.”
As she dreams of our wedding, and children to be,
I kiss her chloroform lips, I savor her taste.
Thanking God for my luck in such savory a catch….

Mayhap she struggled, mayhap she did not,
When her Reality returned in bondage and hungover.
Sobbing her joy, wailing her passion, in her room
Of black and white snapshots, wallpapering her in.
Private moments selflessly shared for my film.
These days, days, in a daze… oh, how love confines,
And wilts the vibrancy from my angel’s face,
These days, days, in a daze… oh, how cruel love carries on…

M. L. Michael
06-13-05

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