You said my scar
was a line that lead you
directly to my heart

(and I sighed)

because scar tissue
has no memory
and can never lead you
back to me again

You were forever saying “look!”

at the flowers
at the sky
at the stars
at the moon

but not once did you look
in my eyes

and see your pain reflected
back at you

a mirroring of broken souls
broken parts
broken hearts

that were destined to shelter
with each other

during the storm

tell me I am welcome
in the darkest corners
of your mind

tell me I am welcome
to rest my heart there

tell me I am welcome
to stay

Your gaze burns into
the back of my skull

intensity that I dare not
look away from

daring to ask questions
that speech cannot

a fire inside the heart
of your eyes

yet they are as empty as
a snakes

heartbreak cutting through
your irises

your pupils shining black
with grief

am I really responsible
for the death of such beauty?

for the death of a sacred look
a sacred wink

can we not go back to the beginning?

brown eyes that I fell in love with
and mine, blue

that you said were as deep
as the ocean

and yet more beautiful

and yet, and yet,
at the end of the day

more deadly

I sit drinking black coffee
(two sugars)
in an all night cafe
across from the park

my face is pressed
against the glass,
condensation forming
as the temperature hovers
around freezing

I stare at the trees,
watching the leaves intently
as they blow slightly in the wind

the birds are chirping loudly,
anticipating the dawn

as the dusty pinks
turn into pale blue

people appear like ants,
scuttling in formation,
focused, eyes fixed on their goal

the pavement takes their weight,
the train terminal opens
like the mouth of the sea,
allowing them all to enter

the city is waking up for me

Your daffodil kisses
blow off the snowy
remnants of winter
and a spring starts to blossom
in my heart

Love is just a game, you said

and there’s a knack to playing it
that you could never teach me

however hard you tried

but then, winning all the time
would be boring

and at least I never cheated,
or tried to bend the rules

I’m not suggesting you did, my love

but you are are a compulsive gambler,
with a poker face that I have tried to navigate

with kisses,
warm and gentle, playing my own game,
the manipulative tricks of a woman

but failing, always,
to keep you from those jacks and aces

I guess love is really (a) blind

how long can we go on pretending
that we are merely playing

when our hearts are on the table?