A thing is at its most beautiful
When it is already dying,
The aura is brightest
In the knowledge of death's shadow.
Hands caress the dance
Because it is not forever.
A mother's birthing cries
Portend the pain of endings.
Only love can bear the burden
Of a petal's mortality.
Some hearts won’t stop beating,
Even a massive dose
Can’t take the Marilyn Monroe out of them.
Candles in the wind,
What was it about her that remains inextinguishable?
Two pink bandages
Wrapped around her forelegs, cover the holes they made,
Blood trickles from my forearms.
“Live! Live! Live!”
She barks at me from the floor,
Hind legs splayed, heart stilled.
For a beloved creature I once knew whose keen intellect was always guided by her heart.