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Red Rose Morning
Vibrations and hums of the nervous weight
from the bottom of her butterfly-filled belly, flee to liberation.
The song of acoustic strings bounce off a picture painted,
with each stroke drifting to where ends meet.
Uncertainty of what never was steals the attention
from what could be, as sins rob some god
of confidence in mankind’s inherent good will.
Such subtle acts go unnoticed by their deliverance.
The innocence of ignorance cradles her hopes and dreams,
while they wait to burst like bubbles of temporary bliss,
float to the sky, and capture flints of every color of after rain,
by way of generous light the sun so willingly bestows.
Her glassed eyes wet, ready to break with the slightest disappointment.
A smile barely there, as she hides from the last mile of this moment.
Hands tremble from the earthquake in her troubled chest.
Thoughts scattered, not a single word makes sense.
Drowning in the forever of doubt and confusion,
she lets the current flow over, soft like the sound of a folk melody.
Words struggle behind locked lips with no right to be freed;
Unsaid was never so agonizing as it seemed here and now.
Her curious thoughts condense into a look so longing of the eyes
like those that belong to the surface of the lake on a clouded day.
Wonderings drip from her chin and land in his hands
only to be dabbled and examined, but never answered.
Fear of losing what has been gained keeps her silent
keeps her there, but only half of what could be,
if words were shared, thoughts relieved, desires fulfilled;
if tension did not so cautiously cut the air.
Left alone and droned with the bitter taste of a sweet kiss
and a red rose to say good morning, she thinks of that moment
as it only remains a memory of a fragile and honest night,
as he only remains a memory of what could have been.
Dawn spills over a forgotten night as sunlight
illuminates what hid in the shadows of insecurities.