Red Ribbons

Porcelain fingers, interlocking
seemingly frozen, by the harsh glare
of crystalline fear, the unknown
darkness in the center of the chest,
like some great chasm in the earth,
jagged edges, on a slippery slope,
tearing the flesh, but not the mind,
always on the prowl, lust and greed,
overcome by the fire in her heart,
a vision of desire, golden locks,
dancing in the summer wind, reaching
out to save him from the bottomless
pit, and the monster, the fool with
gaping pleading jaws, lined with
the broken bones of those who
came before, his bleeding hands,
scrambling for hers, porcelain, like sunshine after the monsoon, agleam,
buried eyes, taken from the stars, a gift
learned, baleful, indestructible, love
in the edges of the forest, not on
the edge of a sword, with a reflection
of fate, not sullied by deeds of the
past, rescued from that life again,
he stays the hand, no red ribbons
on the temple, firm as the body,
now placed on a path of riches,
by friendship and golden promise,
true wealth in her eyes, not spun
like wool, but leavened by heartache,
at the end of this dream, she waits
in the night, and they collapse
together, like two great armies,
into arms, not used for pain, but
melded together by soft skin,
down again, to the rising of the
blazing morning,
One more day, one more breath,
one more kiss
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