Your rooms

all the places of our youth
will now stay with us
forever
every road we walk
will seem like another
deeper road
the reflections of our faces
in glasses and in windows
will cause us great harm
we will not escape our youth
our mouths will remain empty
our hands will touch
yet touch nothing
space will leak from our eyes
we will have forgotten why
we were lucky
our bodies will betray us
with a longing
we will not be able to speak of it
to anyone
you will never cry in public
there will be no indiscretion
in the privacy of your rooms
I will be unable to stay in rooms
because you do not cry in them
because they mean everything
to you

Longing

How fickle is the human heart
And how does passion
Long for itself
Eyes spark
Hearts quiver
Heat explodes a cold star
Fading into nothingness

All the love in the world
Is but a nerve ending
on the fingertip of God
If body that centre can be called
And if eyes
Make the sound of sight
And if everything that is lost
Can be found
Recovered

A History of Unintended Violence (Metamorphosis)

I
he doesn't realise he's pushing
past a vortex with his skin intact
mistakes Melpomene for Calliope

II
his love a star a light that illuminates
eyelashes on cheeks wounded birds in the road
swept aside by a scorching trajectory

III
the impact does not the surface stir
her hades as thirsty as ground
she swallows a single drop of blood