You,
I tried to forget

Does my longing
not reach you?

You,
who abandoned my trembling hands,
it is my dreams you will not leave

But tell me,
is there a cure for longing?

A silent lake of my torments,
her silhouette drowning
in a thing we once called Love

A constant state
of an unsatisfiable hunger for her,
whom the poets called longing

A year has passed,
and I am still writing
poems—pleas—for her

Three years,
and my stubborn heart
still yearns for hers

It has been so long,
and I fear I may have
dreamt you, dear one

Alone
with my ardent longings

Mourning
the mornings I spent in her absence

Three years,
and I still burn, want, and weep

There is
a foul taste
in my mouth

A cave with circus
elephants in my chest

A sinking ship
in my stomach

A grieving cloud
in my tearful eyes

It is as though I
have died after you

My bed felt like a coffin,
shivering with agony,
I laid

Both the weeping angels
and the weeping ghosts
sang me a lullaby of sorrow

I drank a sea of my salty
tears hoping to drown

Hoping to meet you there at
the end of the shimmering moon

Covered in my gushing blood,
I asked Azrael for a kiss

Lover,
I still fear the heavy
silence of the night

Will you lull me
to a long sleep?