You are there,
stalking my memories,
a series of pornographic tapestries
woven deep into my mind,
Hand stitched together
with a cold blunt needle,
threatening to unravel fast
when the sun kisses the horizon.
The petals of paper flowers
yellow with time passing,
presenting a weathered view
of a love that once thrived,
but is now moon dust
gathering on a dark web
of lust laced
with delicate erotic fragments.
-J
