My true-black Tulip

NaPoWriMo 2023, Day 25

Just the thought of you, resting on my skin,
The way a butterfly would kiss a cloud,
Just that –
That is enough.

Enough to inundate my senses,
Overwhelming them,
A Nile of engulfing emotions,
Breaking the banks of all I perceive.

Such rarity you held in your arms, rare,
Rare as a true-black tulip,
Rare as a condemned man without fear,
Rarer than a purple Polar Bear,

On stilts.

How you wove yourself into my soul,
I’ll never know,
Knit one, purl one went my heart,
As we intertwined, and became one.

Other loves may have faded as
Facades, worn, become jaded,
But, in our outlandish dream,
I loved you more as you wore at the seams.

And even when she, that woman, my mother
Tried to part us,
The threads that bound us, stitched us together,
Conjoined, as one, in resolute refusal of partition.

Such first loves mould a young man,
Leaving him craving the gift of love,
Nothing, no one, could become “another”,
How I miss you, my paramour jumper.

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