Rendezvous

They say you were the best thing that ever happened to me.
I took a walk among the woods. And picked Pomegranate flowers- pink, with the blush of first love, and yellow with the radiance thereof.
Where there is a path now, there once was a dream we traced. With our fingers together, little by little.
I took a little trip. To where the white Dahlias caressed your tender skin. And you lay, holding it, like it were a fragile treasure.
But the wind had plans of its own, other treasures to blow away.
It is not your turn today, my love.
And when I had enough of it all, enough of fading memories, I stopped by your place to make some more.
He was there.
Like some people are. Like some people who wait in the corners of dark streets.

He was there.
I looked in his eyes.

I am not afraid.

He muttered something.
Something about passion. And gently sent a flame of the forest my way.

Certain flavours, certain smells always remain with you.
Which is why I pulled him close that day.
Pulled him close and kissed his blue lips, the lips of death, with your cold grave for a witness.