There is a creature in the night.
It is the wind that races around street corners
And taps on your shutters.
It is the cold silent blue lurking between slumbering rooftops.
It is the sliver of pockmarked white that casts a slinking shadow
As she climbs up the black.
It is the leaves of the oak,
Whispering
Whispering
Whispering.

2 am,
and the thoughts of you envelop me.
Your name is whispered in the blue dark.
Memories flutter uninvited.
The bruising on my heart has not faded.
Not yet.

A patchwork of glittering metal and red brick.
Punctuated by the lapis lazuli coloured swimming pools dotting the veritable map below
Somewhere in the urban labrynth
Is you
Laughing, loving, scowling, sleeping, breathing, being.
And I am here, hurtling above you,
Wrapped in steel and aluminum, and encased by a hazed sky.
Do you hear me? The thrum and rush of a Faraway engine, an ever gliding bird that casts the briefest of shadows. Do you stop and note the rumbling sound, in amidst the orchestra of the everyday?
You lie beneath me and I move over you.
And yet, and yet,
you are unaware, unknowing, nonchalant,
and then I am gone,
Swallowed up by the all encompassing blue.

We walk side by side
our path's diverged by a lonely road
face to face we stand as one

our anger, our confusion and our hope
together, we are the man and we are the monster.

.
Pale faced is bone true,
Lit in darkness like a match,
Two lovers in flame.

The moon is low monster,
High above any scream,
Our lives asunder.

The moon is one faced,
Judge without any jury,
My love for you is plain.

The moon is great Poet,
Above all mountains, pious
In the indifferent skies.

I once loved a dark lad,
Who laid me so blindly bare,
Even the nightingale was mute.

And love is a glowing ghost,
On my shoulders to keep,
Behind me the moon.