Once

The Echo of What Remains Collected Poems of Wanda Lea Brayton

Once,

I might have believed 

in a destiny that swelled between us,

a wave so wild, it beckoned,

although I longed for shore.

You etched wingless eagles into my eyes,

wove bitter butterflies into my belly,

stitched sorrow deeply into my soul.

You were far too beautiful

for the ache you accepted too willingly,

the agony you feasted upon with such hunger,

calling it harvest. 

You offered me a taste 

of this harsh liquid,

calling it mead.

By candlelight,

you signed the words "I love you"

because the words were caught in your throat -

you shivered when I kissed you;

I tasted the salt of your sweat and tears,

confused by the savoring

of an exquisite moment made painful

by the tenderness of your touch -

you silently withdrew

and left me moaning your name.

You wounded the heart of me

when you swore to vows

you would never, could never keep.

I shook at your deception,

curling into the small warmth of shadows -

your false light was anguish defined.

I sought the healing sculpture of language,

unwilling to perish from loneliness,

unwilling to die for your sake

when you would not live for mine.