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.