eqoatl

a golden silence
just before breath
just before i break your heart
'but your heart was never mine to break'
is this what we make of love?
the ability to hurt another?
we are thinking of loving,
always missing the mark
like a compliment at a funeral
love is said to be here
is it in the eyes that no longer meet mine?
the hand that freezes from a fleeting trust?
the hesitant heart that has been kept secret?
a rose belongs in the garden,
but my love should take you to that garden
why does it not?

-db