I spilled the tea
The cup is empty
All that was needed
Had been said

I woke up from a nightmare
I could not stand to keep
to myself

you were stretched across the couch
coffee going cold on the table
a half finished cigarette
still burning

you wrapped me up
in kind words that
I could not bare
to hear

whispered into my ear
"one day we will go wandering
and this tiny house will overspill
with dreams'

you are not your memories, darling
you are not the bad things
that have been done to you
you are a fierce flame
that warms my heart

forget them, my love
they are nothing
and you, and you
are everything

The past does not haunt me

as much as the present

I was and I will be

somewhere in between

enmeshed, never simple  

is time still infinite?

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