You correspond to the night.
Effacing, like an angel with gray wings,
Veiling the stage of my prayers in tongue- a perjury of
Mine lesser than yours.
Which is a forgiveness, swaddled in linen sheets
Offering no warmth.

Mascara delineates 100 filaments
To exalt your image in my eye.
The copy left a shallow impression
And an afterthought of indelible darkness.
These tears that stain are a borrowed black;
100 claws that catch my skin in your shadow. Faith ends with me

On my knees, conjuring you
Through dreams which evaporate when
Distilled by light. Is it weightless?
The sun injures me with attention.
Day breaks like glass;
Coming over me at great altitude,
You correspond to the morning.