It is my kiss, which never met your lips;
It is the one word I leave unuttered;
It is my soul in bloom, the petal tips
Unfolding on a hand without gesture.
Accept, to sense a touch beyond all touch;
To hear a silence filled with thoughtfulness.
Revere. Let go of this reserve, this crutch
Of yours. At last, you will be fetter-less.
I rightly fear that waving wand of thorns,
Your refusal. The time for us is nigh.
I see that fading hour the rose is shorn
Of beauty, and the garden steeps in night.
Hence-forth, we will never be together,
And a thorn will pierce your heart forever.
September 27-29, 2010
October 2, 2010
Revised: August 11, 2013
stevengoldenpoetry 