ephemeral.
i. she had dark, angry thighs
bursting of pride and promiscuity;
tall and bulky, she was the envy
of every freckled frame,
lean on her sparse belly
and her pinnacle shivering
shouting its sheer conceit and
standing as a vain reminder that
none could do her better
ii. but she was consistently gasping
and wheezing; even with her spare
lungs she was asthmatic, open-
mouthed and vengeful despite
her unwavering thunder
iii. her name was lust -
travelers came from far-away
places with pretty names
to scale her unguarded legs,
worn leathery and obscure
under the myriad of hands
and greedy anatomy;
she left no bodies in her
wake, burying them in
her bones as soldiers and they
they willingly obliged,
sacrificing their simple souls
to the swift crook of her arms
iv. and then there was the
timid thing, for no one
knew its name or its gender;
it was anonymous and quiet, and
had sparsile quivering coursed
through its frail, quiet veins
in desperate attempts to shout
with its small, feminine
appendages, to be a display
worthy of looking at - but
it was inferior when compared to
the long, waving arms
towering high about it,
and it often found itself
lonely, not even accompanied
by the length of the earth
on which it stood
v. it had bright sparks
blooming out of its breath, and
when its mouth opened,
its brim poured over with
light, and lithe afterglow erupted
from its tongue - even as it
stood overcast with the
gloomy clouds of lust
and her gliding elbows,
her branches splitting the
horizon with their spill
vi. the timid thing, quietly
and with fog as breath,
simple and deluged - it
spoke gently using its agile,
voiceless lungs to respirate its
release:
vii. "my name is love; do
not trample me -
for i am made only of
soft bones with no
rich flesh to clothe me"
viii. each traveler turned
the small blossom away,
venturing on to trees
and to more practical things,
crushing that timid thing
that stood, weeping, in
their way.