Closed Gate

              It used to be…

where His deepest most sensual penetration

was the slow slide into her mind.

An appetizing aphrodisiac

of his poet’s prose, to

beguile behind

a wordy veil

to blind & bind

her body & mind.

                       But now...


silence between them

frosts ripe fruit on a vine,

as a cold curtain falls on dawn

to never unfold after dusk is drawn.

Where the locked gate remains shut

& the rattle of the chain stands still,

to leave a hole that never fills

the same again…

3 thoughts on “Closed Gate

  1. This is so powerful and sad Mel – the contrast between the two halves is stark and relatable. Some beautiful and very clever lines – the one suggesting silence frosts fruit on the vine was my pick. Excellent stuff.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Haha! Never fear my friend I would say the same things for free (but the continuation of our reciprocal comment and support arrangement can happily stay in place!). Seriously – it’s a pleasure reading and commenting on your work

    Liked by 1 person

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