He keeps knocking
on my midnight ceiling;
until morning
he occupies my mind.

Invades my innermost thoughts,
I have no peace,
he doesn't want to leave me be.

I don't know how to get rid of him,
he doesn't leave my space;
he waits outside, in the streets.
Surprises me, as I'm turning a corner,
falls like a bookmark
from the book
I read.

He knocks on my door
in vain;
I don't want to hear anything.

I see him passing the glass windows
of second-hand stores, where he buys
slightly used,
still in a good condition
looking like new
carefully restored
love.

I am not purchasing
what once
belonged to someone else.
I won't wear
someone else's love

(3-6-07)