Naivety
I am soft-limbed and naïve,
Wishing upon fallen lashes and falling leaves.
Does the echo of my sorrow caress your ears,
Or did the edge of my words cut you bone-deep?
I grow like ivy, creeping up your walls,
Covering every bruise, recalling every fall.
You come in whispers, soft as twilight air,
Your shadow turns, and I’m back there.
In the garden of my mind, where your touch lingers,
Sweet as cherry wine, our fingers entwined.
Two ghosts dancing, as memories go black and wilt—
Time is a thief, and it steals with a grin.
So I gather up the petals and glue them back together,
A tapestry of “he loves me not.”
And if you should wander, like a breeze through the trees,
Know your presence still brings me to my knees.