Shoulder Of Sin (Trine)
He storms away in a caliginous cloud of thunder.
by Linda Marie Van Tassell
His chilly kiss leaves me with a curious sense of wonder.
In a palm of tears of disbelief, I cannot find the reason.
How is it love can be so true and then commit such treason?
The wind portends a coming storm; the night sleeps in my skin.
The branches tap - a finger's crook - begging to come in.
A black rain falls; emotions rise. I cannot keep them under.
A cry of love is a cry of love, no matter the time nor season.
His midnight ocean of hair curls over the shoulder of his sin.