rose-diamond.

i want you to be a good man.
and love me like a good woman would want.
lately, i want nothing more than to be a good woman.
with a heart refreshed by the joy of salvation,
bathed in rose water and hibiscus.
i sit smoking with ashes falling on my keys
forty-nine minutes past midnight.
the children are asleep
and my mind wanders to recover
memories of youth.
be a good man,
and i will be a good woman.
and we will be young again,
dancing for the days of our youth.
reclaiming the days of our youth.
ashes smeared over the days of our youth.
the days of old mean nothing to me
when i am in circus tents
and in my paris years.
build me a tent out of poems
and i will dwell in it
twisting crowns for my king out of
the vines from the rose of sharon
budding in our cracks.
the most beautiful diamonds
are born out of the broken.
and after we have danced
and conceived
we will invite others to come in too.
come into this place,
what a beautiful place we have made
out of our love for our king.
we are the children of a king.
and they will dance and they will conceive,
not children, but hope.
hope that from their wilting flowers
will fall the seeds that we need to
keep living.