deepundergroundpoetry.com
Handfasting in Flowers
Dried flowers, pressed-
in bloodied-red,
lay quiet-slaked, as dream..
'neath gossamer-opaque-
a layered hush,
in crinkled sheets..
Some-
still laced up tight,
'n' upside down-
hang from ceiling's
ironed crown..
To wither life,
(if found)
"..and turn'd dry now.."
from each drip of dew..
graced to ground..
The rest? he asks..
(to that, I speak)
"I've ironed 'em-
pliant,
with whispered heat,
palm smoothing out-
every crease.."
And his eyes..?
began to feast..
On petals..(aroma sweet)
Bound in hand-
woman to man..
in opened fist..
stems curled on wrists,
just the same as Lover's kiss..
The stamen, a ring-
binding two..inside...
without bestowing-
"'til our demise.."
Betrothal in Eternity,
is made-
of flowers, pressed.
'Tween veins-
in perfect unison,
of two souls-
on one seam..
~blessed~
Circle sanctions-
Trust, complete; In all creation-
(guaranteed)
for petals- soft, and woes unseen-
You will
(remember)
everything..
Two petals; Pressed in dreams
reach now, strength-
~Unbroken~
from Realms of in-between.
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