This bed is far too big.

There is no beauty being adored,

No lips being kissed,

No limbs being caressed,

No festive mingling.

I am left with naught but

Lukewarm bittersweet memory.

I remember that night

Your kisses had bite;

Your hand strayed upon my thigh.

You poured over me

All your ecstasy;

I could only accept and sigh.

I suppose

I'm supposed

To be scared;

But how ought I,

even were I  to die,

when I have done

as few men have dared?

In a dream I sought you

Begging a second chance

Within that dream

You gave me not a second glance




'Perfection failed our first time round,

What do you want from me?'

I never sought from you perfection;

Yet from desire, I'm never free.

I cannot think of you

Without being burned

And I cannot touch you

Without being scarred





Yet to resign myself

To neither

Is to be forever marred

We might have
laughed our way into age,
growing older,
shorter,
wider
together.

Instead,
we parted,
while yet young
and thin
and proud.

Already the leaves are brightening
In bursts of orange and red, and
Swiftly separated from slender branch
To dance across the busy streets,
Where they will lay
Like dimly golden harvest grain,
And soon too the rains will change
Until mornings dawn with
Foggy street lamps flickering;



Gems of the celestial storehouse
Nestle about unwavering evergreens,
And in a moment of earthly quiet,
Whisper the soft echoes of hope, tarrying.