Monday, January 28, 2008

One Hundred And Sixty Syllables

Gather the roses I plucked from your sin
Careful the thorns that will bloody your skin
Place them in vases with water and wine
Tie them with beauty and feed them with time

Forsake the words that were highlighted red
Erase forever that stain on our bed
True that I held you in passion and pain
Sure of the sweat that would follow again

Empty the vials where we brewed up the dark
Grind up the glass so it won’t leave a mark
Scrub all the floors where the evidence lay
No one will know that we left it that way

Ponder the needs of the next who will come
Line up his heart in the sights of your gun
Write it all up in your poetry book
Just like they taught in the classes you took