Miles cor meum

I buried my aching bones beneath a sleeping plum tree
and tucked them between the twisted roots
along with all my secrets. Petrified branches
are the umbrage of my misery
and to this day they bear no fruit.

My heart was stolen years ago
when oleander flourished virgin white.
My skin smelled sweet of promises
that were not mine to keep. As they withered
in my hands, I watched them turn to ugly lies
glazed in watercolors & jukebox 45's.

I cursed the sun for giving light,
choking on the cloying golden beams
that befell me the burden of imminent pain.
I bowed my head; I fought to catch my breath,
but in the shimmer of a sunbeam
all I saw were scars and ash.

I stole my heart back from a thief
and gave it to a brooding soldier.
My night watchman, my lover,
along with combat boots and a silver cross,
my heart is standard issue.


Militat omnis amans.
Every lover is a soldier. Love is a warfare.
- Amorum. 1.9.1.