It doesn’t matter
if you’re not with me tonight,
if you must lie
in another bed of obligations,
if I cannot see you
now,
then,
or ever.
It doesn’t matter
if I die of this thirst
to hold you in my arms,
to feel the hum
of your breath
whispering across my face.
It doesn’t matter
if you vanish
in the distances of time and space,
if time cracks your beauty
into wrinkles,
furrows your brow
into foresight,
or sways your bouquet of florets
into slow decay.
It doesn’t matter
if this candle burns
with the flame
your eyes once sparked,
bleeding its life away
into the molds of my sorrow,
into the aureoles of our soul.
It doesn’t matter,
because tonight,
I smelled your heart,
and heard the amaranthine tune
of your eyes,
and the eternal scent
of
"I love you."
