On a painted dream,
my weathered heart
made love against the pane of broken glass.

Crushed velvet held in a tight grip,
hugged me from the inside out,
drowning in the barbed water of discontent.

Languishing beneath the tree of hope,
nothing more than desires end to mock, and ridicule.
Despair gracious, not in its wisdom, but in its remorse.

Dear lover,
I am not broken,
Nor is the earth that supports my aching frame of strong bones.

Each one may snap,
and snap again,
until the limbs become flesh ridden bones,
falling,
into the sea,
where the light is,
where the peace is.

Come join me on this painted dream...

Samira Wyld      #AWyldLoveNote