Free Verse # 250 (blessed with a curse)

Her crimson lips,
Flower of rain,
Rose of silence.

Her dark eyes,
Flame of passion,
Sea of calmness.


Poetry –
against the flower’s cheek
the echo of a dewdrop.


Fevered whispers,
under her skin his breath
a forest in bloom.


Chill of silence,
clouds moving,
the rhythm of life.


His poem,
her breath poured
into a vessel of light.


Their breaths merged
and the flame shivered silent
as their bodies drowned
in the body of the night,
therein to die,
therein to be birthed, as one,
on the altar of divine light.


Blessed with a curse,
this longing within which hurls me
ever deeper into you,
burning achingly
through the sea of your absence.


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