Time, Tears, and Lace


This day glares.
A harsh winter white
In a moody sky.
Like sheets left too long
On the bones of soured lovers.
Veils of tattered lace.

I think back to you,
And the whites that we knew.
Flushed ivory,
Bisque pillows,
Aroused coral peaks
Alluring, yearning
To be teased, roughed,
Cradled in tongue.

I think back to your skirt,
Chalk, pleated, a white-out white.
A perfect opaque canvas
For the sun between your legs,
Their moonlight skin now charcoal silhouettes,
A smoky chocolate V
Against the dying August sun

I think back to your shoulders,
Spilling with clusters of freckled stars,
Constellations of paprika on buttermilk,
How they fell away
To the rise of your arctic white breasts.

I think back to your last smiles.
The whites of your eyes,
Your teeth,
Cumulus pearls,
Glistening in happiness,
Sadness,
Reluctance.
Tears swallowed back
As we parted and walked away.

I remember thinking...
It's okay,
This is just the beginning.
I remember praying
That I wasn't wrong.

This day glares.
A harsh winter white
In a moody sky.

In the distance Annie Lennox sings:

"And so it was that later
as the miller told his tale
that her face, at first just ghostly,
turned a whiter shade of pale."