The Love Hermoine

When one’s journey

was woven

like a wicker basket

all things fit

Contemplating

the ruins

of last year,

Her heart rested

with nothing

under floorboards

like Poe,

Loudly beating,

Awaiting

to bait something fruitful

Her

opioid addiction

for love

was profound

So

While eating

Porcini mushrooms

Chocolate within

Became less bitter

She dreamt of log cabins

On occasion

Previously coming up with mostly driftwood,

She’d rather something

this true,

this tried,

and perfectly tired

As sprawling as the common birds were

She casually wondered

what would become of the others

All nights passed with in love

As she wandered

Through valleys and hallways

Running from ghosts

Without lanterns

Hopeful that the scent of lilies

Would never again

Appear in the midnight hour

Now

She no longer

Had to deal with being a nanny

To anyone

Other than her own

Children

She yearned

For the sound of nothing

Which previously

Kept

Her deaf

For someone

With many lovers,

She’d finally discovered

Someone less inept

than previously taken before

Rose knobs turned

Opening doors to the same heart,

Rendering life

Otherwise insignificant,

Leading with bible, prayer, and a sliver of disbelief.

No longer wanting to retain her vices,

She opened and closed patio doors

Waiting for the rug to roll out

Long than expected,

Each time previously,

It cut just short.

Rose of Jericho was no longer working,

In ridding away time and space,

Condemnation no longer where she was bound

Most days with him were painfully pleasant

Without reverence

For those days that had previously taken place