I have given you reason
to turn back; no one
likes himself in the past.
Even nature re-visits
itself, attentive to
the weather's cycles;
a tulip bulb sleeping
unencumbered by history.
You should have loved me.
O how you could have
loved me! Like the blade
of a knife, like a machine gun
on the battlefield.
But this is not paradise;
though the wolves are beautiful
and tender, their teeth are not
strangers to their victims
blood. Once torn, almost
always eaten.
2 comments:
that's beautifully haunting...
Yes to what crafty green poet says.
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