When you thought
I was merely
dreaming
the story had
unfolded far enough
your pleasures broken
much like the stems
of the roses now dead
and dryingwhere,
they were once bright
shaken into submission
of alotted space
(like me)
you thought
i would stop
dreaming submit
to the configuration
of the vase,now you know what is left,
nothing
scraps of stems, entwined leaves
and wasted petals
my love
has now unfolded
in the hands
of another
the flight
of my heart
my paper soul
a bird fashioned
of paper folded and
pessed delicately as
origami in the pocket
of some one who has set
me free on the tide
of the winds and
loves me back
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