Speak to the life in the decaying earth .
Command it turnover it’s harvest
by the flusters of spring .
Time stands still and one could imagine
in these moments that everything happens,
An alarm goes off breaking the silence,
Your tears roll off dainty lashes.
You’ve lost count of how many times.
Words. Hurt. Tears. Apology. repeat.
The rest of the story, muted
The Arboretum of youth whitewashed
Reveal the skeletons we bolted away.
Lavender smothering kisses,
sticky soft gazes, diluted
into the blush nectar of our bruised blossom.