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An Envelope of Petals

I inch my hand
over your bed sheets.
How distressing it is
to step into the unknown.
Eyes as wide as the sun,
you will not be the last one
I ache for.
As my hand
glides along cotton linens
I imagine the factory that they were
made in.
I envision a repair man
with a wrench in his hand,
I think he is heartbroken
and he too wonders
what kind of lovers
will tangle themselves
in these cotton covers.
At home
he has flower beds in his garden
and they are the greatest understanding
he will ever have of love.
He takes care of them
and they repay him
with their exuberance.
And me,
well I am tired of
treading upon blanket spreads
of lover's beds
I get so woven into them
that I forget who I am.
You are the needle
and I am the thread.
You weave me in so deeply
so intricately
You tie a knot at the end of me
and then cut yourself free.
Leaving me alone and entwined,
love was never this unkind.

Some days I would trade
blankets and pillows and the love that rests in them
for the repair man's garden.
Because flowers are faithful.
Honest.
Humble.
Beautiful.
And they realize
that rainy days
aren't always
a bad thing.

poem by Vanessa Grixti
Added by Poetry Lover
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