hands joined, their hair, swept about by a gentle breeze,
forming intricate weavings of golden threads.
An old oaktree bends over them like a lime green chapel.
The square is made of grass and mud. The place is sacred,
sanctified by the melting of those ancient souls.
Three cherry kisses, charm bracelets and a pinky promise
sealed the pact. Until the end of days, that's what it said.
They cross their hearts, smiling at each other.
Life gives, life takes.
Two onyx-hearted teens stand in a crowded hallway,
their eyes straining to ignore the boundless void
ripping the holy space where adoration used to be.
Dark orchids are blooming on his skin like shadows
of kisses never given or never received, thickening
patterns of agony. They remind him of how she used to smell
like black vanilla and rain, like freedom and wilderness.
A misleading scent. She frowns and stares at her feet.
She sure was wild but she was