A place where the whisper never has to pass
my slightly parted lips,
never parched...
A place where the lead guilt stops
bouncing between my bitter rib bones,
never bruised.
And you would be there,
of course.
dressed deadly,
all in black from neck to foot...
on entirely different terms then ever before.
hulking arms dropped to your
generous side
itching to hold me
against you.
We would no longer
wander,
rip open wild wounds
that leave us ripe
and afraid to speak.
A place where you never have to scrub at
the red stains on your hands
never sinned,
A place where the past doesn't hang like
a noose around your thick neck
never raw,
and I would be there,
as always,
in garments
of flowing white that never soil...
My eyes would be your protection.
I would kiss you
where the soft light touched
your unforgiving face
and all would be forgiven.