Love Hurts

My darling my dearest, my dearest my love,
I’m leaving you.
Our bed is icy, and I need the sun.
Love is blind, love conquers all,
But if love always triumphs, why does it so often fall?
We once danced in the daylight, and schemed dreams in the dark.
I’d make love to you in the morning, then spend the day lost in your scent
until I could crawl back into bed and fall asleep in your arms.
Being in your arms is like a sculpture’s embrace,
Beautiful, but stoic.
I admire your stability, yet find myself yearning for some semblance of fragility.
You do not break.
You are a stone, mosaic marble with so many puzzles pieces with jagged edges
I hardly know where to begin to paint the picture of your persona.
Flowers cannot mask the pungent stench of our sickness.
Forget-me-nots to remember,
A dozen roses to forget,
So many perfumed flowers overwhelmingly scented with regret.
You cannot break, but are even more unwilling to bend.
I do not want a statue to admire.
I want a tree to grow tall with,
To laugh and count our rings once we’re ancient.
Our branches used to swing in the cool breeze,
But I haven’t felt that wind for some time.
It’s winter whenever you’re near,
So I’m leaving you for warmer weather.