Bud, Bloom and Bury

by sibyllene

There is nothing so perfect
as the bud before the bloom, nothing
so tremulous, so tart, so
much tasting of a quick deep
inhalation.

But I kissed my true love
and in that moment, in
the first dewy breath
out again I gave
my skin over
to the sullying of
time and toil,
the soil so dark
and frothed
with leaves a hundred
years dead, with
petals a thousand nights
beyond their bloom.

Once unfurled
you crumble quietly,
freeing the richest perfume-
where the bright scent of
dawning mingles happily with
the bittersweet echo of every
final, ochre-colored
thought.

Once awakened, you
touch tenderly a lifetime of light,
bright against your eyelids,
knowing always, only, it
will end in dreams
again.

Once alight, you melt slowly
like wax, red and weeping,
giving yourself over
to blight for the sake of
the sweetest
possible
luminescence.