while the cold wind keeps me walking
I am passing by
your lightless window frame with empty walls behind

the memory of you has me heavy hearted
remembering  better times
while the cold wind keeps me walking

I grab a cup of coffee
heading for the Pergamont museum,
where I like to stand in silence
alongside the lithic statues.

Amongst those crumbling strangers
I find your spitting image in the clay
and once again I live through time
in our favourite greek café.

I heard two seconds of a song I haven’t
heard in two years
and I thought,
“Should I inflict pain on myself and listen to the whole thing?”
Heart pounding, sick to my stomach
I remember the first time he played it for me.
I remember how sickly in love I was already
and it had only been a few weeks.
How sickly in love I still am and it’s been over a year.
And now I’m wondering if the pain ever really goes away.

hiding in the dark
a retreat to solitude
the trees hold my hand

Nothing mattered, other than the desperation of needing each other.
Just that consummated closeness.
A craving.

there is no poetry inside me
my veins have been bled dry
my heart once soaked is empty
without poetry i might die