My Amelia, mon ami, sucks a lemon
and puckers a perfect kiss.
Half-lidded, she remembers the grove of Hesperides:
.....bright dripping citrus,
.....high green tang of damp earth,
.....how cool rain pools
........into the footprints of titans.
She presses a lingering whisper
into her lemon lips
before it slips too soon,
too finally,
from memory.
Hush -
she's gone back to the day that broke her world
(almost ended it).
She slides a wedge my way; I taste.
"Does it not make you feel like a demi-god?"
(It does not.)
And could I not see eternity?
(I could not.)
Though she admits
eternity has been broken
for quite some long time.
Mon coeur - my Amelia.
"I love you."
But she doesn't hear me;
her eyes have gone distant.
I know the look,
as she recalls the ancient crush,
.....sickening rush of leaf and branch,
.....the crack and wail; her world gone pale,
then dark with death
at Hesperides. Yes,
it still makes a sound.
and puckers a perfect kiss.
Half-lidded, she remembers the grove of Hesperides:
.....bright dripping citrus,
.....high green tang of damp earth,
.....how cool rain pools
........into the footprints of titans.
She presses a lingering whisper
into her lemon lips
before it slips too soon,
too finally,
from memory.
Hush -
she's gone back to the day that broke her world
(almost ended it).
She slides a wedge my way; I taste.
"Does it not make you feel like a demi-god?"
(It does not.)
And could I not see eternity?
(I could not.)
Though she admits
eternity has been broken
for quite some long time.
Mon coeur - my Amelia.
"I love you."
But she doesn't hear me;
her eyes have gone distant.
I know the look,
as she recalls the ancient crush,
.....sickening rush of leaf and branch,
.....the crack and wail; her world gone pale,
then dark with death
at Hesperides. Yes,
it still makes a sound.
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