Olive Hues

I seek the sun,
harsh and bright;
an orb burning my eyes,
so that the glare of love
does not blind me.

You of olive skin and guitar,
playing melodies that strike
my heart with discord,
for there is truth in your eyes
that I cannot abide.

Fantasies flit across my garden,
like butterflies over flowers
confused by the multiple choices.
Engraved on the soft petals
are the words I long to whisper.

How proud love can be!
Revealing cobwebs in my corners,
the dust of my past clinging to them!
On your olive complexion, I find
a drop of ruby and realize love put it there.

The sun is a bleeding day moon
that laughs at my attempts
to shun love from the curves
of my beating fragile heart.
Olive hues glitter on a guitar.

~*~*~

This poem came to me after reading Neruda last night.
I was very sleepy but knew if I let it slip away that I would regret it.
So I penned the poem on a receipt I found on the beside table.
The inspiration is from my past--the memories of fighting love,
even as I longed to embrace it.