The only boy I ever loved

The only boy I ever loved
Was born with roses in his eyes
Blossoms down his spine
An iris on his cheek
Little bouquets of violets
Smattered with heather
Fading to buttercups

When velvet dissolves grey smoke
Small diamonds flicker between its folds
Words hidden behind pages I had written
Never spoken
Yet to him I would speak them
Curtains open to let liquid glass colour the floor

The only boy I ever loved
Was born with flower-pressed lips
The colour of burnt wine
I would bring him words out of little books
Please pretend this is a story
Simply prose on a page

I would write him a happy ending
If I were allowed
Lay down an iris flower
To cease the white ribbons
Twining up his arms
Around his wrists
To stem the flow of poison
He held readily to his lips