• A Letter

    I beg your pardon
    for I had to leave
    far away, from you
    from us.

    When you read this letter
    perhaps I've already
    passed away
    dead or alive.

    Your hair shinning as wild wool
    under the blazing candles
    your eyes closed in their own beauty
    are daggers sharper than the iron.

    You planted seeds,
    a harvest of memories,
    wild roses, a scar and a howl
    under my skin.

    I beg your pardon
    but I must leave
    trying to forget
    dying for you.

    Our secret
    buried and untold.