You. Just You.

It rains, and
In your hands
I am like a plastic kite
Flying alone on the afternoon
Of a particular spring festival
Drenched within the security
Of being plastic rather than paper
I dance in the rain, with abandon like
Some doe-eyed young woman
On the verge of ripeness
Only slight inncocence retaining

It rains
And in your hands
I dance among the clouds
Like a moth gone berserk
Trying to decide
Which one of your candles
I should give myself to
And I become joyfully oblivious
Of the water that drenches me
And acts as a road for lightening to strike
Of the heat it will exude which
Melts even the best of white plastic
Leaving it charred, stained
Like you, after my selfishness
Shall be played out

It rains
And in your hands
I shall cherish this flight
And keep it close to my soiled bosom
This breaking that I have promised you
Shall be, perhaps
The greatest of my sins

I have no doubt that
A woman's love lies
So much closer to divinity
For what else could see
Within this hollowness
A hallowness?
Who else could find littered
Within this rubble of weakness
Shards of sacrifice?
It is the divinity
behind your gaze that grants
This dust any honor
It is your heart that can see
Within this sin
Virtue wreathed