Death to former self

Cordially flared to fall the distance,
His figure frozen in the position of blue
morbidly apathetic regarding a change of heart
he has been a door mat for muddy sexy feet
meticulously manicured & polished by a master
A collage of scents danced at his door
Names mesh in a stew in the memory of a man
in despair
 Caution resides in every fiber where doubt is
imagined as fact
but as a premonition begs the past to accept
this knowledge as future history, he knew
somehow her soul was the puzzle that he missed until that point.
 She picked up the mat & washed it
and hung it on the wall as a
prized piece of art to be cherished &
he died in her arms from his former self. 

Written by Steven Cropper