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femme' obscura


there are things that I should not know. but I do.

I, the most un-wise of men, have traveled through the
bodies & minds of women; each was beautiful in her way.
beauty that washed over me without being absorbed:
my hideous scars remained.

there were dragons to be slain, but the land was scorched
because my bayonet slept in its scabbard. & I slept in the
arms of a temporal lover, as we hid from the storm of
tomorrow. but we knew it would come.

so a woman wanders where she will, & once we met on
an obscure trail. we fell into an affair, perhaps out of
desperation, & what we took from it was an evanescent
romance; it was a one-line poem.

this small part of the biography, of her, & her, & her;
this is what I was given, what I hold & cherish. & her
journeys, before me & after me, are obscure in my
omneity. they are someone else’s love story.

the heart is a mosaic,
gathering all the things that make it art:
the petals of roses, & the thorns;
kisses & caresses, lovers who held me briefly,
& the not-knowing of where they ran to after.
evening stars & morning rain.
music that played through the years
when there was no one to dance with me.
these deep nights, exquisite as dark velvet.
& the loneliness… because there is always loneliness.

my heart is made of many things

but never goodbye  –  the heart was not made for that…


(Artist: Jared Joslin)





Written by JohnFeddeler
Published
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