When petals fell from the orange tree,
Slowly, with arduous procession,
One could tell that the chains on my heart may not let free.
But wilting down, snipped at the edge, with some mindless occasion.
When petals fell, You held me.
When petals landed, You left thee.
When petals fell, we went crazy.
Berserk! Totally Berserk!
Nothing taken, nothing doing, Nothing given.
But the love that will never die, as petals fell, celebrating our Exodus.
Poem 2: She Burnt Her Skin.
Lying at the foot of a bottomless gargoyle,
With piercing eyes, and pricking fangs.
Lying at the foot of an angry Centaur,
With mouth deep hooves, and Lion harsh roar.
She searched for you.
She called. You snubbed.
She weeps. You Turned.
She dies, You lunged.
For that consuming flames, that had lured her to burn her skin.
Precious priceless divine.
Succulent, and paramount to a goddess' endowment.
All these you forfeited.
Did you know? She burnt all,
Her skin, All!
Because she scourged for your Love.