My love is a tower, a stone,
Cold stunner, here,
     I can see you, notice you,
As my sad arms long
     To carry you.

I like your blush at midday
Which are blossoming aptenias,
     Or female flame of poppies.
It does not matter if your friend would giggle,
     But how I long to carry you.

I am a dreamer and my love
Is a tower, the city tower,
     I despair oftentimes for I cannot go with you.
My feet are nowhere near your feet,
Your front door is the closest
That they can get to, as I would
     Slow down near the open window,
A long streak of line,
Of contrast, of vagueness,
     Or disintegrating light.

A dark sail comes in the afternoon
     To take the sunset away,
And how I wanted you like
     Its hunted filament,
Having it in my hand,
     Only that, even just that.

You are no princess
And my love is a tower,
     I think it is quite clear.
I harbor the giant gears
Like a burden, the haunting histories,
My torn being, the dragons
     Of a dying rose.

See, my heart is a tower,
Ever old and ever new,
     And it has lost you.
The song of night hurries itself into being,
     It is not satisfied that I am lonely,
It despairs along with the artistry,
The architecture, the scenery, the cooing
     Of an exhausted bird.

For in this night, and
In any given night, I belong
     Among these millions.
I have a giant tower, and
     I am never low enough.
My soul, blue, bows
     Like stooping water.
The hopeless stars look at you,
Vindemiatrix, Ain, Acamar,
And it is you, solely, that
     We ever want to reach.

The deep night starts to sing to me,
     In lights and memories,
But there is nothing like your voice,
Voicing out the echoes
     On my lips.*

© 2015 J.S.P.