I Should Have Never Told You
Your eyes were a spectrum of passion that
I had never seen before.
They were reflecting pools that rippled with the cries of spring peepers
I had dreamt of hearing again.
They were the homes of soft velvet moss that
promised me the future didn’t exist.
Your fingertips carved your sweet intentions into my upper thighs like lovers’ names
in the bark of an old weeping willow tree.
I could tell your gentle hands were searching for asylum.
So, I let you take refuge in the crashing waves that
were my chaotic soul.
I let you salvage the wind of your own breath that
had been stolen from your lungs.
I let you reclaim the surging power you had been craving
since obsidian replaced your heart.
I let you set fire to the jungle I had spent
my whole life nurturing.
I let you break down my mountains that
even God himself could not have created on the seventh day.
Just so I could save your burning soul.
But those same fragile, desperate eyes promised to raise a forest around me.