forgive
the way a tree
forgives

it never judged you
to begin with

.
And so he sits
once more
folding his life
into an origami box.
Paper walls,
cellophane ceilings.
Counting out syllables.
Sequenced
to twist-**** the mind.
And quietly
he sits
ghosting the room.



© Pagan Paul (04/03/19)

with the clock ticking restlessly
as my heart fondly wishes
to rest my palms against your dips
the valleys your waist had created
full of mountainous curves
the arch of your back carving hills
there's no denying that your rivers
so onyx, bringing Styx to shame
cascading down your mid-back
each strand flowing so elegantly
my hands desiring to feel its silky texture
and to finally let our fingers intertwine
the twigs growing on our trees
now blooming iridescent florae
the mundane in you never existed
for the emerald in your irises
flusters butterflies as they flutter
their wings carrying them curiously
to view your angelic ethereality
which was, not so ethereal;
but more grounded, rather earthly
it is unfair to profess you as my angel
as you represented mother nature
you are my Paradise Lost
for Gaea trembles at your divinity
my Earthly Venus, you have captured me
under your trace of beauty