You told me to draw you,
so I painted your body in crimson & gold.

You told me to write you in scribe,
so I wrote you a sonnet, fourteen lines across your back.

You told me to leave a mark on you never forgotten,
so I tattooed your soul with tebori ink.

You told me to taste your scent,
so I walked down the lane, collected tobacco, & smoked a cigarette from your favourite apothecary.

You told me to find the name for the aroma that lingered when you left the room,
so I closed my eyes whilst sat beside you, & inhaled you like the cigarette I tasted on the way home.

You told me to image you naked, like Rose being drawn by Jack aboard the Titanic,
so I turned away, took a seat in the Cumberland leather chair, placed charcoal between finger & thumb, sketching an image of your silhouette in black dust ash, a memory that found me from when you slept beside me last night.

You told me to pick a flower that I gave to you the first time I whispered;
"I love you,"
so I wandered amidst the clouds & air of mountains far & wide, until I found the flower I so remembered.

In remembrance, I knew to pick such a tender delicate stem, petals so fragile they would melt in my grasp, the flower would cease to be what I loved,
for, I love you.

You are the rose in all its abstract glory,
you my dearest are no possession.

If I were to misunderstand such beauty, you would simply fade to exist,
so I sat down beside you, a painted memory,
shed a tear,
knowing this memory of you
would suffice.

© Sia Jane