Black Jasmine/Onenight blooming, a scent to steal the sentience left like honey in a deserted waxweb. morning light comes and the darkness lingers, fingers of fire cannot steal the shadow you left upon my soul. dancing a minute minuet in colours of indigo and crimson. gold left for spare change as you rearrange the angles of the truths we cast aside like satin false skins to slide to the carpets as pooling denials are absorbed like the fragrance of jasmine into my pores. when we touch. when we touched. and foreveremore. copyright William F. DeVault (wfdv) |
|---|
Author's Notes: When I lived in Los Angeles, my boss, the CIO, had an assistant named Elizabeth who I had a killer crush on. We spoke often, and she was pleasant enough to me, but the boss had a strict "no fraternization" rule in place. She was the most beautiful woman I think I have ever seen, and charming to the max. This is actually, in spirit, much like my "faceted sphere" works, as it references an alternate reality...one where I dared to make my move. I regret having not done so.