by Carl Scharwath You are alone I am ashamed We walk among the lavender, wilting in the heat of our passion. Wisteria releases tears of dew drops on a lover’s pillow encased in short-lived memories. Tattered vulnerabilities, crushed velvet revelations filter through the flower field. This is the territory of asbestos laced pollen. The martyred… Continue reading Limerence
Let no deceit from memory pass, that buried all may be the frass. Tainted pips from wilted trees, auspicious of unborn perfidy. Bound in amber, dry, confined —therein, sure an ax to find.