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I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,
And Mourners to and fro
Kept treading—treading—till it seemed
That Sense was breaking through—

And when they all were seated,
A Service, like a Drum—
Kept beating—beating—till I thought
My Mind was going numb—

And then I heard them lift a Box
And creak across my Soul
With those same Boots of Lead, again,
Then Space—began to toll,

As all the Heavens were a Bell,
And Being, but an Ear,
And I, and Silence, some strange Race
Wrecked, solitary, here—

And then a Plank in Reason, broke,
And I dropped down, and down—
And hit a World, at every plunge,
And Finished knowing—then—

I do not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.

I love you only because it's you the one I love;
I hate you deeply, and hating you
Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you
Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.

Maybe January light will consume
My heart with its cruel
Ray, stealing my key to true calm.

In this part of the story I am the one who
Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,
Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood.

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,

and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

Take my wings and burn them down.
and when you grind the ashes to powder,
Throw them into the darkest ocean.
Let the waves stir them away.
Do the same with my heart.
Worms of solitude ate it to decay.
Don't you fear the space it'll leave.
My chest is already hollow inside.
Take the wings and burn them down.
In the ocean they will shine.
Stir the ashes stir and stir
Stir till there is me no more
Can you hear the sounds I hear?
Whispers of the demons exalting.
Whispers of more angels mourning.
Weeping a heart turned to dust.
Lamenting a soul turned to rust.
Take my wings and burn them down.
Let the ravens be at rest
Let the owls build their nests.
Let them celebrate the death,
Of an angel's heart of an angel's soul

Take my wings and burn them down.

Ashes of the sentiments of her core
fall through the black hole

& for protection she goes to close the door
which falls through the hole

freedom, she cannot afford paying for
gravity pulls her to the hole

when it's time to heal it hurts more
she tries not to fall in the hole


......................


Dark signs are drawn on the urn of her soul

alone she holds the secret of her downfall

the dark eyes of her misrepresent her intentions

the shaking and breaking she never mentions


...............


Ashes of the sentiments of her core
fall through the black hole

& for protection she goes to close the door
which falls through the hole

freedom, she cannot afford paying for
gravity pulls her to the hole

when it's time to heal it hurts more
she tries not to fall in the hole


........................


Thirsty to death, she went to the water well

whilst saving herself, unfortunately she fell

that was the story of her dark lashes & eyes

it is tragic that she dies and they rise..

When scars are met with deeper wounds.
Crimson lava pours off her head.
What hurts the most is the same that mends.
her guilt was the tears she once shed.

The saviour owns the whips,
he adds to her body more scorges,
and with his sweet lips,
platonic innocent love he forges.

Courageously, she challenges the sun.
With her eyes she enslaves nature.
Sometimes it's bright, others it's dun,
especially on her departure.

Her life is a forest that always rains,
not close to a neoclassical garden.
In her absence nothing remains,
for she is one of a kind maiden.

When scars are met with deeper wounds.
Crimson lava pours off her head.
What hurts the most is the same that mends.
Her guilt was the tears she once shed.

The saviour owns the whips,
he adds to her body more scorges,
and with his sweet lips,
platonic innocent love he forges.