The Night Of...

Buttons of his shirt were open The door to his heart was closed In his arms she was woven Yet he felt empty inside, like a vase holding a rose His bare chest was throbbing Lost in the echo of her sobbing The lace of her robe was open The windows to her soul were closed In the grip of her warm embrace, he was frozen Like rose petals she felt plucked, by the hands of woes His wet shoulder was there to console Console her heart, for its beat that he stole Her skin was now more white than golden Yet rose-tainted were her cheeks and her nose He was steadying himself on his feet which were molten Holding onto her, while caught in their undertows His fingers gently brushed through her hair As the window drapes were brushed by the winter air Unlike her integrity, their bond was unbroken As still in each other they were engrossed Maybe that was their idea of promised heaven Where she stood like a statue and he as its pose Throughout their darkened home, a sigh of winter flowed A lone candlelight danced with the shadows, as that candle melted and glowed.