For S

I can't stand the thought
            of those
white roses
I've placed over your eyelids
             dying,
      as all things must…

but

death is just a perspective trick:

there is only change;
                nothing can stay the same
                        forever:

permanence is impossible…

but

when my fingertips traverse your skin, when
you look at me & truly see;
when you give the grace of your love,

I despise truth.

I want to believe a beautiful lie,
one big enough
        for us both to climb inside
                together:

two ancient creatures enclosed in amber
        our limbs
            entangled
                forever…