Honest Villanelle

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The one part of the body where love is secure
May was the unknown, a start to an unwritten tale
where truths are unveiled and lies cease to venture.

The sweet-apple wind sprung cool through the wisps that vulnerable September.
The autumn relived freely, replenished, still not stale
released from the one part of the body where love is secure.

A laugh breathing a tender, swinging lyric of care, now mature,
to indulge in soft comfort; sending my senses on an ambiguous trail.
Where truths are unveiled and lies cease to venture.

Though I know you, your dimpled portrait is what I capture,
forgetful of the perpetual, careless lust of bittersweet betrayal
that holds the one part of the body where love is secure.

Our imbalance of passion through lost time was sinfully raw, remember?
The questionable, final trial rested in your chest – a weak heart about to fail
where truths are unveiled and lies cease to venture.

Here, where leaves are contracting, awaiting the gust of departure,
we cling to the branch, this blank October, our locked hands will prevail
from the one part of the body where love is secure
where truths are unveiled and lies cease to venture.





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