love poem

This was a poem from Beau Mec.  He wrote this…about me.  Le sigh.  I was his muse.

He had it framed when he gave it to me.  I got teary-eyed reading it and cherished it for years, even after we broke up.

It felt bittersweet letting it go.  I was on my way to moving out of the city again and I was trying to downsize my abundant load of belongings.  I held dearly onto it because I knew he meant it…he felt it.  I felt it.  He had never written anything so beautiful for anyone else.

I cried as I put it in the donation bin.  He’ll never know how much it meant to me.

no rose without thorns

for long i watched a rose in bloom
resplendent yet austere
through sorrow, disquiet times
the wild and starlit years-
for every gentleness lurked
a passion bright and fierce
for every petal soft and sweet
a hidden thorn to pierce.
thus few came near; or come, and touched,
and sprang back with a cry
and left the rose to her repose.
alone beneath the sky,
for what do men love more than blood,
or guard so preciously,
that they would shrink to share a drop
from out an endless sea?
no doubt some feared a deeper ache
than lingers in the flesh
that human hands cannot repair,
nor distant time divest-
but i would give my every heart
to see that blushing face:
i’ll not let go i’ll gladly pay
aught tithe of blood or grace.
a rose is thorns, and thorns the rose.
not separate, but the same;
imperfect in perfection, and
a bravely burning flame.
and though the greater world may hold
a thornless rose or two
none are to me so beautiful nor such a rose as you.