Between the pages of my heart

[Harryd]

She is a flower pressed between
the pages of my heart
and I cannot read the past
without her there.
A vibrancy replaced with memory,
cherished such fragility
though the scent no longer drifts
into the pores of my skin
the blood carries reminders,
keeps her happiness within.
I am quite aware
of why I fell in love
and still very much am
tied to the same old impossibility,
should she even care
to look, she would find the same hand
open without regard
for self or sanity if but to wake a smile
and paint a blush like a canopy
across a canvas so divine.
I realize such motives are outdated
and old fashioned in a time of need,
belief is but a crutch
for a dream that cannot be,
but I will never toss away this flower
pressed between the pages of my heart
for though the petals may have faded
she's twice as beautiful as even I once thought.
HD