(no subject)

[well_enough]

Absolute

Porcelain arms tangle
in timeless disarray
as fervor fuses femininity
-together-
with leathery strength.
Chestnut hair
on auburn
on sand,
hand in hand
in hand.
Mouths moan
individual nirvana,
each residing in
its solitary asylum.
Broken promises
wither hearts
as final frosts to
spring’s first blossoms.
Char becomes ash
becomes fertile soil.
Tears cleanse
as they flow
to streams,
rivers, oceans;
rolling in,
rolling out again.
Luna smiles,
and rolls them
back in;
salutations for
what we had,
what we have now,
and what might
never come again.