Chapter Text
"Beauty Marks"
I read once
that beauty marks
were kisses, bestowed
by a lover
in a past life;
evidence
of something
I cannot quite place
stamped dark
across
the weathered expanse
of my flesh.
I see you here, on
my hands, my left foot
the inner sanctum of
my thigh.
They stand proud
against the scars
that drape across me
like cobwebs;
in the absence of
your kiss,
I've created my own,
with the dark embrace
of steel, of the blade.
My love -
would that I
knew you now, and not then;
the myriad renditions
of this woman today,
she once
knew your face
and held it
between her palms...
but I can only
guess
at
the roadmap of your devotion -
and imagine, if I try,
that I've graced your lips
instead of
this unyielding body.
O, lover,
I have
grown cold
without you.
O, lover,
the sanctum
is now become
a tomb.
My fingers brush
an atlas
made
for a world
that has been
buried,
beneath the sands of time.
O, God, O God...
would that You'd see fit
to wash me clean,
And hide this longing
from my eyes -
render me
free from
memory,
from the warm embrace
that's
cooled to frost
on my skin.
My love, o faded memory.
For all the stamps
you've imbued
on my flesh,
the words still come,
heavy with rainfall,
and bitter as ash.
Would that I
never knew you,
and that
the ghost of your touch
would fade from me entirely.