The Gift

You see this place.
right here?
alabaster paper tied with inky etymon
This
should have been your
gift

I had been working on it for 1232 minutes;
to be exact.

My gift
my
words           heart           love

never enough

I dipped my nib                                                       deep within myself
slipping between ribbed                                              ossein cage that guards
the most valuable item I have                                   that no one else has even had.
I plunge the sterling tip and pull back the crimson ink mixed with briny droplets.
Then scroll the words that dance from my soul to the beat of my heart just for you.
Notes from a piano in the distance come flourishing about creating a new rhythm,
that brings together two which develop into one cadence designed just for us.
Words that flowed freely, easily to create an image for you to see and
finally come to believe I was made for you and you for me.
As the pen etches my gift onto the paper
and eventually into your own soul,
I place my lips upon the words
“forever and ever
my love,
us”

sadly, it doesn’t seem enough

Your words clothed in armor,
wielding weapons of precision and truth,
destroy what was created for you.
A gift in the making
shredded in moments.

I look into my hands
as they cup what is left.
Just mangled pieces
of my heart.
No longer recognizable.

Your gift
to
me

7 thoughts on “The Gift

      1. No, sweetheart, just write what is in your soul.
        My broken heart is, as Paul Newman/Butch Cassidy said in a different context, a small price to pay for beauty.

        Like

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