SELECTED POETRY
by Danica D'Onofrio
September Thirteenth, September Fifteenth
There were once two lovers who met atop
the highest peak of a faraway land
She walked slowly, half-smiling until one day he took her hand.
He whispered. They bantered, until she could resist no more.
Every moment, every sentence, it was all an open door.
They played in cities full of thieves, and fields made of rice.
They drank on beaches made of fire,
they laughed on rivers made of ice.
They cried in secret basements, fought for hours in old bars.
They hiked in heat waves for the hell of it,
she was the Moon, he was her Mars.
They chased the seasons for forever, alas,
time would never wait.
The cold was always coming, it was their dreaded fate.
They held each other every night,
as if next morning was their last.
She'd pull away and he'd hold tighter -
olds habits don't die fast.
They were the fire in poetry that doesn't make it stale.
They spoke a language no one knew, it was fluent "Fairytale."
But with all great beginnings comes a melancholy end.
You are my greatest story.
Goodbye, soul friend.