I used to be a poet
before love took me and crumbled me in her hands

I used to understand myself
before she walked in and tied up my chest
into thirteen knots I cannot undo

I used to have a place to stand
before the sky fell out from underneath me

I used to think this was all possible
now I long for the tender pain of innocence
and the purity of my dreams

I used to have a simple answer
it rested in the center of my hand
heavy and round
dark and cool on my skin
Watching you it slid from my fingers
unnoticed and unretrieved

I used to watch Love
(Dancer's feet and Fox's eyes)
kept her carefully cornered with words of fire and ice
I looked away for a moment
distracted by dark hair and brown eyes
when love slipped behind me
and neatly slit my throat

There is nothing now that used to be
it is all as it never was before
I ache for it to become what I imagine it to be
two climbing flowers entwined in the sun

But I am afraid
breath and body held tightly in the moment before you reply
that it will wilt away and wither when you turn your head and leave
and I will be alone
with only a handful of dead flowers
and a mouthful of bitter regret

AcB 10.08.01