you passed by the river
and the reflection was cast on
my curve of bank.
the current
lost it’s strength at the mouth
like words whispered in defeat.
were it not for my knowledge
of those who have drowned
i would be breathing the reeds and water
and beating against the overflow.
i think it’s human nature
fight for something
for the only thing we know.

Is this what love is?
Red marks and lines,
puncture points, hands never being held.

Is this what love is?
21:00 chuck out time sitting with Dusk on welcome mats
ringing a doorbell unsure if it's heard
or just ignored

Is this what love is?
Mirrors are mouths, speaking after-images into words
This isn't what love is.
or perhaps this love was made just for me
*Alone.

You were Sheet music.
or Braille.
or Latin.
Indecipherable surface level:
Tension, felt through the page.
Slowly the notes unwound,
then
bumps in the story smoothed out,
leading
to me finally understanding what tense we were in.

And i would Relearn all of You;
in a Heartbeat.

(i)
you used to sit two seats away from me.
probably never realising the glances stolen
from behind notebooks and pencil cases.
i was happy to hear your laugh and the tapping of your feet, of your hands upon the table.
it was puppy love, it was my only.
the days you weren't there were the ones that lasted the longest
and the days you were, ironically, the fastest
i did not know how to switch the two.
but then you caught me.

(ii)
you used to sit a seat away from me.
with words that spoke softly now
and mutterings i no longer had to second guess.
to the crinkles in your eyes when you smiled
and the cuffs of your blazer a mess.
you rarely looked me in the eye
so i could never tell if you were listening but
i was just too happy to care.
but then you caught me.

(iii)
you are the gaps of my sentences.
and i am a memory you'd sooner forget.

This     gap
between out lips as the kisses become longer
that     vital
intake of air to keep the love/boredom/sympathy/pity
alive    until
this is snuffed out in the hope of something tangible

I found between your fingertips the unknown.
The dark beauty that bleeds
otherworldly blood.
And as is with war torn lovers
mistaking red for green.
Left us both ruined
but you perhaps more so.

We agreed, did we not?
On the way we'd love.
Till we got caught
when your heart became tough.
Hammer came down with a thud.
Crystal future to mud.

Take me home, it's too painful
lull me to sleep- is this what we came too?
Still you promised me.
Guess all love leaves eventually.

Fear not; The thought of loveless life.
For even the Moon is kissed by the Sun.

When I was younger, through many nights I felt my dreams
turn to premonitions.
When I was younger, through the days I felt my actions
turn to decisions.
But now I deign to lay my head.
For no longer are my dreams, dreams-
But you instead.

And who knows what I'll prophet,
without the Suns rays to stop it.

Even if i bleed a little;
at least I'll taste something we share.

Such a shame
"I love you" Can't contain,
the true extent
of these false
feelings.

when the kisses turn to bites
and the mirror reflects his love
more than you-
"DONT BELIEVE IN ACCIDENTS!"
-think about the times where tenderness was supplanted by need
by want-
"WILL IT BE SATISFIED?"
-or perhaps how you never get looked in the eye-
**"I need you."

I dreamt it finally
Saw it in
all its glory.
But even in dreams
There's still no hope for  you
for me.
Soft. Silken. Warm.
Intangible, without fear
Without form.
I dreamt it finally
and to an end I hoped to see
to see you
and me.

you wasn't ready
to
communicate what i really felt
you
were to much rawness
not enough
sharpness
just words thrown at paper in anger and sadness and a desire to finally get them out

i wasn't prepared to fix you up
because i'm in no position
to tell you how to be made right.

i can't go stargazing anymore.
i mean; after the moment was ruined by a not too snarky comment
"They're dying- it's not beautiful-"
you wouldn't expect it. now i look to ceilings
with cracks and caves from upstairs dances, naming constellations
from memory

wishing i could look at my night sky stars.
without you.                                                  
                                                                          "-but this is. We're beautiful."

take rest
beside my tongue
and i can tell you stories
only heartbroken lovers can tell.

coulda let you hold me close,
love saw something deeper I suppose.

but the tides change.

Sunlight's embrace through leaves
to caress cheeks and chin;
dancing on your features.

To a computer screen.
Reflected on glasses, with
tensed teeth and eyebrow.      unseeing.

The moon sits somewhere out of view. It does not intrude.

Sleep does not take me this night.
Hazy irises seek out your face in the gloom.
found in a bed an arms-reach-eternity-   away.

                                                          (i dont want to look away)

so i watch the sun through curtains. throwing greetings upon the wall.
to caress your eyes and hair.
the first blink of morning.
a smile.

Do not ask
to be loved in your dark
if you are unable to
love in my light.

scar tissue
beating within my chest;
let you never know healing,
let you never know rest.

scar tissue
tapping to a one-two-one-two-time;
you know it'll never be right,
you know it'll never be fine.

scar tissue
that was once called a heart:
we can't stop the bleeding
we can't restart.

corrugated;
this love like
an ugly curve.
draining the airpocket
dry.
nails, wood wounded.
all right, all right, all right then.

there was an old building
wooden and decrepit
filled with secrets that the children
traded in.

now it's smoothed over.
casted concrete or something similar.
it's the ghost of a house that's gone.
it's eerie how it's inviting.
It's eerie how it's inviting.
but now it's missing.

out into an abyss
finding fingers in the dark
to curl around my thoughts
and leave an impression.

it's not finding a hand to hold
or to sweep out the mist.
it's to find shelter from the cold
and lips you once kissed.

the fire at the corners of my eyes -
- smoke billowing -
- make blinking that much harder -
- once in awhile ash collects in an iris -
- a promise to burn things -
- blind.

a man sits in the corner
in his hands; the small bits. the aches.

I couldn’t have loved you once
in a voice holding
a feeling stronger than regret.

on shoulders not broad enough
a shadow, heavier than memory.

on the shelf there’s a framed photo.

a photo of you.
one print, plucked from your polaroid
post picture,
post posing.

processing
i couldn’t have possibly
taken it myself.

practically then, i’m replaying a feeling long since perished. purposefully.

kinda sad to be planning out pity parties
periodically.

maybe i’ll write the patent on recovering from players like you.
get a legal practitioner in Intellectual Property and beg for peace.

they’ll tell me all about limited liability.