i do not love you
words are not in abundance
i am not drawn to you
like birds migrating to
warmer heavens
i felt something brief,
my breath was caught
by love's noose,
but stranger things happen,
i do not love you,
because to love you
would be to become you,
to capsize like a boat,
submerging into red seas,
i do not love in small measures,
to do so would be worse
than blasphemy,
i feel for you,
but i do not love you,
i do not search for your
face in crowds,
i do not love in honesty,
only lies pounding
hoofs on loves ground.
i cannot love you,
because the taste of it is
strange in my mouth,
an unwanted flavour,
like sand and dust,
in the midst of something
that should be sweet.
i do not love you,
or i cannot love at all.

The young receptionist
suddenly crossed her legs
behind the window
of the waiting room of my love,
smacked her gum
and said promise not to leave,
always come back if you do,
even if we give you bad news
for the rest of your life.

I'm not quite sure
when the dark thought
first came to me;

it crept up softly
and quietly, like a black cat
in the garden of night;

like a light through a crack
in a door opening slowly
and too soon; or perhaps

a drowning man in the deep
waving back at the moon;
too far over his head.