If you were a book, I’d slip upon the page

and write you a hymn: To Love

The text, an alchemy of lost, of found

Shed tears and tangled blooms.


I’ll write you a boulevard cradled by oak

Swept up in a crescendo storm

In an empty room, beneath an altar of glass,

Captive, we’ll pray.


Words dance through pain, tussle with greed, as we swallow shots of shame

To shiver in the reckoning: Love never fails


As you gasp, breathless

Upon rumpled hope

I’ll soothe your sleep to dream.


In the still of morning, you’ll reach for me

Words beneath the cover.



~Seraphs’ Blush



Published by

Anna Watson

~ write like a painter

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