Just let the mystery be

An entire buttersweet
slice
from each generation
set aside
as
Dotty English Ladies
barking at moons
railing to injustices
only they fathom
or possibly name
I’ve liked some of them
as a species
individually
have loved fewer
in ways too twisted
to reveal
mention
anywhere else than
their sacred
scented
pillow’d beds
engineered
in halls of mourning
be-ribboned
hallowed rooms
bursting with ghosts
spirally creating
more urge
by aching
unquenched
desires
passing before them
I found them
In darkened corners
slow tears rolling
dripping
to space
coutoure’d clothes
in stunning inarticulacy
unlike the later
screams
cleaving doors
hearts
proposed orderly
futures
where they landed
lies
way beyond my ken
for I shared them
such short times
whether I pushed them
further
along lofty panic’d ledges
or created
joy’d escapes
only they
as then
as ever
as always
will know

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