The overwhelming burden of the lover, unloved
who stood ignorantly before digitus paternae dexterae,
the breath of God, the breath into the first man and life--
--he remains untouched, unmoved.
Deaf to the peal of even the sweetest bell.

He who failed to gently crest the curve of
a woman's sweet breast, the warm hollow of her hip,
the valley of her spine, the cusp of her lips;
with a heavy, innocent hand.
He whose love could crush rib and lung,
not with body, but with clumsy word.
She inhales sharply ******* for air.

A weak man who waits, albeit patiently,
for his worries to resolve themselves--
a dead white headstone, somber and unyielding.
She, the pulsing ember, could not thrive on such rotten wood.