Deviation Actions
You handed me a rose,
But I could not distinguish its soft red petals
From the ghastly thorns which were coating its spine.
For how many sleepless nights have the maddening echoes,
Which bounce aimlessly across the corridors,
Been my only companion?
Every aching second has been a blade,
Cast deep into the flesh of the future;
Puncturing holes through the fluid membrane
Surrounding love and acceptance.
But if I could measure my life in minutes,
Each hour would chime the death of a memory
Disintegrating into ashes of nostalgia;
Merely increments of time
Which hold no true sustenance.
In an attempt to feel what has been forgotten,
I would prick my finger,
Believing that the ruby blood would spill
To create a river that I may forever float upon;
Expanding veins which flow together,
To keep one body breathing
To keep both of our bodies encased in immortality.
But how is one expected to process oxygen,
If it were never present at birth?
When the world appeared empty,
And lingering souls did not pass
Mournful silence would wrap me tight within her clutch.
A hug as cold as a stone,
And as steady as a grief stricken vixen.
Helplessness I could not reason with,
A yearning, which could not be soothed.
(Where was my moment of truth?)
So when you taught me how to love,
I dove into the abysmal water.
Swimming though currents of passion
I plucked the deepest petal from your garden
And presented it to your lips
To prove to you that I was not blind;
Your intentions were not braille,
And my inability to recognize affection was not permanent.
The rose has not yet faded.
My moment of truth;
Revealed.