He stands under the olive tree
Leaves reflect the sunshine above his head
He prays for a son to be his reason for living
She stands under the olive tree
Barely any thickness above her head
She stopped thanking God when everyone turned their backs
She keeps a pair of jeans stained with blood
Though they were too small to fit
Above the olive tree was nothing.
Both found the other
She was scared to death
But wanted him
He noticed the imprint of her vagina
He wants her
But only slightly
She holds on tight to the blood stained jeans
She's never felt the urge to let go
He wonders why she's staring at him like an alien
She dropped her jeans
Blood was on her stomach
He ran and didn't look back
She smelled like a feast
The wolves approached
Their saliva kept the grass green
She ran but not fast enough
Moving on was impossible.
Flawless love was impossible.
© 2010 Anthony Desmond Scott. All Rights Reserved.