Your tears,
those pieces of your melting soul
leak through those holes in your face
& slither down your cheeks like two
serpentine snow flakes.
As if
bearing the legendary trickery
of the devil himself,
lead me to that forbidden fruit that seductively
halos your dimpled chin.
But I will not give in!...
No, not again.
Not like my forefathers
as they sought false wisdom.
The only wisdom
that really matters to me right now...
will be to kiss your scars & not judge their depth,
they are testimonies of your existence,
beacons...
of your swan-like grace,
& I know its pretty much irrelevant
to tell you that you occupy
the empty space in the back of my mind,
& yet transcend the cracks
between my thoughts at the same time,
Girl...you're divine.
But even divine doesn't really define
that Heavenly Vine
from which you were so masterfully clipped,
clipped...
just like those wings
that no longer sandwich your spine,
girl,
you're divine.

But...
that's besides the point,
parallel pins,
back to your scars...
My foolish flesh questions what earthly thing would
dare
leave it's tainted fingerprints
on the skin of my beloved,
but my Spirit,
conversant with these otherworldly things
calmly states that it's the mark of Life,
God's Tattoo Parlor,
they are simply the traces of the darkened ink
He has purposefully penned your porcelain skin with.