In Pursuit of Huddled Desires

A heart in repose makes tinder of love’s passions.

Photo by Yuliya Kosolapova on Unsplash

The morning mist coldly brushes my innocent’s hair

Like lavender crushed in huddled despair.

Her hopes now quenched in lust filled thirst,

My soul inside her swelling and burst.

My touch upon her, caressing her petals tender

Ushering oaths of love, goodwill to engender.

Honesty, love’s ravens, through my veins does rush,

Bringing our instruments into harmonious hush.

Arching backward in dizzy blinded desire

My love stands skewered on lusts’ own fire.

Consuming all, the love chalice must splinter

Returning limp to cold heart’s solitary winter.

Learning not, love’s mirror thrusts me on in vain,

Dashing the hope of avoiding further succulent pain.

from The Bench by Kevin Farran