I am imprisoned
by these bitter memories
and my poor conscience.

The earth grows cold and
the leaves have left the trees like
ripples in a pond.

The mirror reveals
a face changed by the ages,
no trace left of youth.

The shadows soften
by flickering candlelight
and too much red wine.

With a simple touch,
you lit a fire inside me
which burns to this day.

People aren’t perfect –
we each have our personal
virtues and vices.

She bares her shoulder
so painfully slowly that
moments feel like days.

The night swallowed her
inch by precious inch until
there was nothing left.

She shined in the dark
by rising from the abyss,
growing full and proud.

Behind this stone mask,
can you see all of the tears
which I cannot shed?