i do not know
when my eyes will cease
witness the sun with her light fingers
caress my naked flesh warm and gentle
like when you first traced your lips
ripe and sweet against my own

flowers in full bloom
after the cold night
with the pregnant moon
what new blossoms  
will perfume the air?
will they even dare compare
to the rare harvest
savoured full and deep
in the valley of your breast

i do not know, love may be too short
yet i want no rest or seat with regret
nor wish the long and lonely road to forget

your eyes will cease without
kissing my shape and form
i know, yet allow these eyes
to be hunter, spy, and lover
seeking you and only you

until my lost sunrise

even father time could not measure
nor mother darkness swallow
my desire to meet the dawn
where i might find you again,

because with you;
sun rediscovers the secret kiss of light
winds birth a caress
of gentleness thought forgotten
stars and moon light embrace
with the warmth of the first fire

i open my eyes
to breathe your name.

i bear witness
to the birth of your smile

for each new day
i will bleed my eyes, sever
my soul as humble offerings
on the altar of hope
to see your smile
like a butterfly whose wings
carry away the pain and anguish
of wounds and the wounded,
as it is your passion.

soft and gentle
aflame and intimate
like our last kiss.

my eyelids kiss, seeking refuge
from the memories of you.

but you are the sun,
your light always cut me;
in the blanket of night
naked are my desires
under your moon and stars.

there is no denying
the passions rediscovered
unrequited and true

with you.

i have been having longer
conversations
with Silence

not lovers but we
will share the same bed
she will slip under the blanket
claims in the darkness her own pace
will talk while the moon outside
walks naked waiting for her lover
while stars burn their strange fires
the nocturnals with their nocturnes

even now, she is
a downward spiral vine
over my shoulder slithering
to my naked chest
that wears the cold like a cloak
until her kisses traces
the murmurs of my heart

she tells me i am alive
and so i smile before
she reminds me of what it means
to die.

she does not speak his name
for the syllables do not match
the rhythm in her heart

her tongue still to savour its shape
could not trace its outlines
even as a sacrifice into silence

unlike mares violently stomping
in the night while she sleeps
the memory of his name contain

no trace, promise, or fragment
for what she desires to possess
even if only in secret dreams

only in this new world
where ones and zeroes define
each word and color to take shape
can a farewell be born to remain
without touch, sight, or hearing.

for this reason perhaps i cling
to when the same light and sound
halved so they may join themselves
in full and equal new measure
between and within, for us.

passionate as i am, please

*let your distance and silence stay true
even as thought seeks to close its eyes
to the memory of you while each lung
stifle and choke the air so my tongue may
never again shape nor taste your name.

let me be the sole inheritor
to the memory of our last night
whose slivers i will feed  
to the mouths of forgetting
while i live on dying.