All worlds encompassing.

Still -even after the years
seeming heaped with breaths of love:
I see in her most perfect flowers
On buttercup lawns, fresh from snow.
She is all and everything;
Outside her sphere is nowhere
a desolation of profound longing.
They may travel to lands mined
With diamonds and gold yet
Here shines a beauty untold.
All nature’s glory seems created as
A mirror which can only shine
Back images, not what is real:

"she walks in beauty like the night"
And what nights?

Yet these are only words and visions -
She is: cinnamon sweet and lilac pretty,
Sunset and dusk, she all states is.
Desire is a happy prisoner when it awaits
Pale beauty’s extended hand
So away with fantasies and far off lands.
Here is my compass and here my map.

Breaking up

So, he looked back over the things of their life:
the house, the car, the kitchen appliances and sighed.
It was tough to be open with the blue eyes that
stared
across
the table at him,
there were too many things to say, as if the words were too big, they became tangled and
desufnoc.

He noticed her vulnerability
like a thin
veil
revealing all behind the veneer of pursed lips;
her chest rose too quickly.
He nodded once and she knew it was true.
He stood and walked to the door, turned back to her and nodded,
he noticed now the two tea cups
and the fragile steam that
billowed lightly
from them and he went to speak.
Her head ducked as if to fend off the words
and he halted again, turned finally
and was
gone

She stared back - relieved.