The Night Of...

Buttons of his shirt were open
The door to his heart was closed
In his arms she was woven
Yet he felt empty inside, like a vase holding a rose

His bare chest was throbbing
Lost in the echo of her sobbing

The lace of her robe was open
The windows to her soul were closed
In the grip of her warm embrace, he was frozen
Like rose petals she felt plucked, by the hands of woes

His wet shoulder was there to console
Console her heart, for its beat that he stole

Her skin was now more white than golden
Yet rose-tainted were her cheeks and her nose
He was steadying himself on his feet which were molten
Holding onto her, while caught in their undertows

His fingers gently brushed through her hair
As the window drapes were brushed by the winter air

Unlike her integrity, their bond was unbroken
As still in each other they were engrossed
Maybe that was their idea of promised heaven
Where she stood like a statue and he as its pose

Throughout their darkened home, a sigh of winter flowed
A lone candlelight danced with the shadows, as that candle melted and glowed.