A Blemish

But how was I to know,

that love could be so?

That the curlicue of our spooning frames,

framed the fate of future days

In which propinquity, silently, awakened us,

to a bond beyond safety.

.

We, shrouded, in a Catherine wheel,

of opalescent haze,

Where I’d been happy,

Just to have you near,

Holding my ears gaze,

in a saccharine scented dream.

.

And the untraceable innocence,

Of love yet known,

Bought joy yet to become a blemish.

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