deep wounds and tranquil pleasures.

instilled with the idea
of dire beauty
are restless hearts,
in desperation,
that seek no where
to find,
the lasting bits
of
resurrection.

and in the darkness
of these hours
they do find,
tranquility
escapes,
all these pleasures
escape tranquility.

in young minds
are flowers ,
awaiting
the open gesture,
to inoculate
deep love,
in the wounds
that never healed.