Dear Lover,
you
wore black
from head to toe
a soul of ash
a heart of mold
and
a cape
that screamed to men,
“Take me back,
forgive my sin!”
How
interesting
could you be
with pleather boots
offending me?
And
if asked
I would swear
birds of prey
nest in your hair
but
they say
you can’t see
from outside
inside of me
blackened
cheese
is très chère
and truffles are
forever rare
I
wondered yet
who you could be
your pleather boots still
offending me.
and
are you
some kind of delicacy
waiting for
the brave to eat?
But
inside
you have no lack
although your form
be cloaked in black