it is just that when i let go of you
when i let go
it's hard to remain that perfect without you.
the in-between of love, buds- so full of potential
our love is written in whispers on the pages
of a book which has not yet been opened.
that day, the sun had erased the last lines
of an unforgiving winter from my skin, i was renewed
olive skinned and feeling as if i had just fled the eternal
garden naked as i came- free, fallen.
the sky was dark;
nothing but the blood red smile of the moon
cut through the transient darkness of the night.