scorpio's prophecy

i hung up the phone to

a chest full of drawers:

letters, wishes,

drawings and bottles -

wine, musk,

and your peanut sauce

all labeled by year and vintage.

i know:

love is freedom,

love is pain,

love is your hand on my ass,

and my wishful thinking.

be.

and know that this too will pass.

and be again.

i sculpt lines under my eyes

to recall learnings

and to forget the losses -

only to wonder

when scorpio's moon

will be a good vintage.