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Monday, March 11, 2013

Not Guilty

My lover is not a thief
he never stole my heart;
it is still where it has always been
of that I'm certain,
or I would not feel its beating.
He warmed my life with his breath
when he whispered
spring butterflies into my ears
and my heart chased them
 all the way to June.

My lover is not guilty
he never took my love;
he lit it with his summer hands
when they touched
 the willow's shadow
on my skin,
and banished the sad shape
 before it had the chance
 to reach down
and tattoo me with its tears.

My lover is not a marauder
he never invaded my soul
he walked up toward the fence
that protected the garden
of my blossoming dreams,
 carrying fresh water 
and some extra seeds
and asked, most earnestly if he could help

My lover never committed a crime
He committed his love to mine

1 comment:

  1. Awwwwwwww. How do you do this? It's just one masterpiece after another. I cannot get enough of your words and your heart.


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