On my knees, hands clasped,
bending God’s ear,
lending a finger to trace our future,
beneath the skeletal Magnolia tree
with thunder in the memory of her
green eyes, my heart shed tears across
the soil, nourishing
the seclusion igniting
the passion between our hands.
Wondering when to ask,
ask whether she can shake
the past and enter the presence
of a marriage.
Not blindly plunging into love,
but steering clear of remaining
complacent from pain over the past.
A marriage that nurtures
the branches in our connection.
Connected to the last red eye,
bleeding from the thorns
that I’d pruned to ingratiate
the beauty that she doesn’t,
but that I do see behind her
Will she be the one?
I ask myself in the stillness of silence.
Will you be the one? I whispered.
I heard sniffles through giggles over my shoulder.
I twisted around. Hannah wiped her eyes with her finger. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Twitter – @AC0040
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