Petals

I wish I could pluck sentences 

from the garden of our conversations,

press them between pages of memories

filling the shelves in the back rooms of my mind.

If I could, I would

preserve the blooms of your words,

keep them for the sake of never forgetting

you - reckless, hopeful, flawed.

Stanzas of our most vivid moments

have already fossilized in my heart,

have lost all color and life - for now.

Maybe a few lines have survived our chaos.

Maybe someday I’ll be sitting a mountain,

paging through dusty volumes of this time

and I’ll find whisper-thin love-daises

faded and off white from the decay 

of our mutual longing.

Maybe I’ll keep them.

Maybe I’ll let them fall apart 

in my hand, and the faintest refrain 

of their petals falling will sing -

you love me, you love me not.

poem - June 2012