by Anthony Desmond Scott
(Center Line, MI, USA)
He stands under the olive tree,
leaves reflect the sunshine above his head.
He prays for a son, to be his reason for living.
She stands under the olive tree,
barely any thickness above her head.
She stopped thanking G-d when everyone turned their backs.
She keeps a pair of jeans stained with blood,
though they were too small to fit.
Above the olive tree was nothing.
Both found the other,
she was scared to death, but wanted him.
He noticed the imprint of her vagina.
He wants her, but only slightly.
She holds on tight to the blood stained jeans.
She's never felt the urge to let go, until now.
He wonders why she's staring at him like an alien.
She dropped her jeans, blood was on her stomach.
He ran, and didnt look back.
She smelled like a feast.
The wolves approached,
their saliva kept the grass green.
She ran, but not fast enough.
Moving on was impossible.
Flawless love was impossible.
© 2010 Anthony Desmond Scott. All Rights Reserved.
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