Every Spring the Flowers Lie

 
You
were my left hand
motioning in the mirror
to a cul-de-sac of dreams
A leggy inspiration
with a tango heartbeat
sexing up your razor
to muffle my screams

I'll grant
you were good in bed
Did almost everything
a man might want
but all those vivid shudders
couldn't last forever
cached alone
in the rapture of my head

You left without finesse
the wraith of all goodbyes
shaming the floor where you lay
hair brushed straight
laces carefully tied
so every Spring I bring you these
pretending to myself
you smile