poetry falcon's Post

H-
You, woman
with your stubborn lips
that damn your love,
that uttered vows
carelessly - as easily
as you discarded the
flowers he sent you
the attentions he
showered upon you.

You, in your ripe
falseness, still burn
for me
like the cherry
of your smoldering
cigarette.
This too you cast
with a glowing arc
through the open window
of your red boudoir.
Red as your blood, woman.

There you feast
on the scents of night
That I send to you -
jasmine and the sharp
sweet of green peppermint, the dewy smell of grass
and the soft breath of the earth
as she sighs.

And I send you silence, woman.
A hush and a nothing
for the nothing that your
corrupted vows left you
and for the husband
you detest.
And lastly, I send you
twirling cinnamon smoke
to remember a dream
that died as I cut it from
your false lips.
By: via poetry falcon