Something, like beautiful,
once. Maybe twice
in the quieted creases
of your sleeping brow, relaxed.
The softness, the stillness;
only a moment’s memory
when tangled limbs spoke
and the close press of flesh
meant something. May have.
Once, maybe twice
for a moment’s time, anyway.
Intimate, naked inside.
Strangely beautiful
that flash of existence,
the light touch of happiness,
however brief:
a careless caress,
a tightened hold.
Under pale skin
stretched, softened -
hot breath scorched,
and scarred when quiet hands moved.
Guilted, flawed.
But no promises fell
from your parted lips,
kiss swollen and moist,
once seen as beautiful:
maybe twice, maybe.
Delusions of affection bred,
as the friendly consequence.
Never a choice, no freed will,
when a heart sped
and a tiny smile spread
out. Once, twice;
too many to count.
Something like beauty,
when looking back once,
maybe twice. Never again.

07/09/09