Flawless Wax

Flawless Wax

Status: Finished

Genre: Poetry

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Poetry

Summary

This is a free verse poem.

Summary

This is a free verse poem.

Content

Submitted: July 17, 2013

A A A | A A A

Content

Submitted: July 17, 2013

A A A

A A A


Each candle represents a deed not done, a wish not granted, a want not meet. Though the years had been kind in the ways of family, friends and love, that which lies in between the great secrets of life, left her stone unturned. His silence grew softer as dinner became cold and emotions became stale. The wine lost its flavor and him as well. She knew that the years had been kind, but life seldom leaves a gift for those who traveled the road unseen. This casket of cherry and gold bled not the tears of a wasted life, but of a life that could have been. Was it selfish to live the life of a decent mother, loving wife and devoted community member? What of haunting wants, and unspoken desires. What of those moments in the streets when eyes of strangers met for blushing conversations.
 
What of back alleyways and dark halls, where tiny demons played on harp strings of joy. These sands would hold more than the casings of a woman gone dry. After the clocks stop and the sun sets, he sits at the table waiting for her to come, waiting for her to denounce the stress that slept upon his bones and release his bindings from the day of work. Those sands would hold more than the casing of a woman gone dry, but the knowledge of a man whose need for control kept not only the one he loved bound by day, but chained at night. Those eyes would tell a story if wine grew still the liquid tongue it once had, but now that river has gone.
 
Dry bones speak only to the wind and he stands before the granite and ice of a decent mother, loving wife, and devoted community member. Would God condemn her wish if he gave the last candle breath? The shovel stood aside the satin dark of night, his hand tighten the handle's lips. If only the stars could shine as she did when his eyes rose up to her chest, seeking the bowels of her throat as the curves of her hips bent into his side. The fingers laughed and the toes chuckled in delight and confrontation. For all it's worth, none could not lull the roaring screams of her heart when night fell onto the rivers that now leave him standing alone. 
 
Underneath the years, the candles wait for breath and on the last of days that best the clock a century ago, he's there atop the cherry and gold, waiting for her to come, waiting for her to denounce the stress that slept upon his bones and release his bindings from the day of work. These sands hold more than the casings of a woman gone dry and the knowledge of a man who needs control, they hold.


© Copyright 2017 Dunkel . All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

Other Content by Dunkel