Hers is a beauty of eloquent pen,
Trilogies etched with a holy amen;
Fragile and humble, she offers her soul,
Teardrops her parchment, resilience her scroll.
Not newborn skin, this.
Barrier excludes blood
From heart of stone
Lest it beat and fulfill its function.
Stubborn film rejects sunshine,
Content to stagnate frozen
In primordial ooze
Lest the mess that lurks beneath
Be exposed, raw in its stench.
Your skin has kept emotions contained,
Given you a measure of control
Over the uncontrollable.
See here, the crown of thorns
Which pierces hearts of ice.
Take hold of the spear
Which alone penetrates
Drip with awe.
And watch your dirty little secrets
Dry up and turn to dust
Before the Light of the World.
She let him see what others couldn’t,
and emptied drawers
and exposed her viscera.
She fully expected him to flinch,
toss her back
(a fish out of water,
the one who got away)
but he didn’t. Instead,
his tears met hers
and formed a river, a magnificent
fountain, rivulets which thickened
like blood. She revealed her nakedness
and he, finding her soul to
be more than oxygen,
found the pearl of great price
within her imperfection.