She was a stained glass beauty,
Living in colours but marred,
By the pain keeping her at bay.
She was the first in everything -
In class, in losing her virginity,
Pouting on cigarettes and cocaine.
The first to arrive on the dancefloor,
Wineglass slipping from her ruby nails,
Shattering; she stepped on her own debris.
He was a meandering river, long and languid,
Time held no meaning for him,
Or the features that could hail rain.
He was the last in everything -
In class, in pursuing all that he wanted,
Because life itself handed him rich blessings.
The last to cross the finishing line,
Even though he was riding on the wind;
Last one to find a love that would never last.
The first time they crossed paths and lips,
Was the last; and while he was her first love,
She was the last person he wanted to remember.
She was a stained glass beauty -
First of her kind; he was a meandering river,
The last man she'd loved before the fall.
Copyright © 2016 thearcticstar