originally published on November 9 2018
Shaking hands pass on bunches of violets – A message of love in secret. All the purer, made sweeter by the scent. Later she will press them in an old book that talked of love like this, Proudly in verse. Preserving fragments of her violet heart with fragments of love dried, expressed in ink, But not dead – Burning bright, proud, forever in the pages. When she is exposed, sent away, She runs to find the book and takes it with her. The weight in her arms worth the pain, The tears falling never enough to quell the fire in her heart, still fueled with love, Never shame. * She awakes in a foreign bed, warm and content, As her lover presents her with bright purple bunches every day After kissing her awake. She watches her smile, lusher than any violet, And renewed – She tastes life, hope, joy on her lips.
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