I saw you smiling with an inclusive timidity at our rendezvous.

Impressions and self-deceptions knew at once

that they were not a cleverly disguised work of fiction,

and jumped to life out of the pages of our minds,

fountain pens scribbling and jotting even now.

 

The mass stared at us,

wondering if it was staged

or perhaps with lighter intentions.

 

They think the street is a theater,

the rising sun a floodlight,

passively bearing witness with outstretched rays.

Let us keep the fourth wall.

 

You are an evangelist,

delivering the salvation

that rouses the Rose that dwells inside me.

I implored you to stay a little longer,

but you returned to the heavens,

and our kiss was broken.

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