she was most beautiful
when she left,
like the sun setting
beside the sea.
the sunset,
a cruel parody
of dawn
but just as beautiful.
a vivid reminder
of our beginning;
light, darkness,
and a passionate kiss,
ignoring the peeking stars.
it is when the sun
acts flirtatious,
seductively stepping in
the ocean waters
like my goddess,
naked and wet
and perfect,
waiting for her touch
as her body warms mine.
it is consciousness
that even best days
will end
and we have no choice
but to face horizon,
making the most
of twilight
instead of denying
the apparent darkness.
it is preparation
for a long night,
an extravagant goodbye.
as the last lights of day
struggle against night,
warmth disappearing
from her touch,
and the last colors fade
from her pale face,
with the last of
her strength
she musters
my most beautiful sunset,
her last smile.
YOU ARE READING
How They Loved
PoésieI have never loved. I think I never will. But to understand it, I need to write about it. Like a detached astronaut on the moon observing the earth, the following pieces are my attempts to represent love in words through my observations of the exper...
