I carved you out of marble and stone
but I think it is midas in your blood
and the back of my hands are bruised
from all the years I’ve tried to let go


you still own me without even trying
my tongue is tied in cherry knots
when they told me to soften the
centre to make it easier to swallow,
but then they did not know you


the sea is black with all the blood I’ve spilt
and distance only amplifies the pain, when
where I am only requires liquid luck to
get to where you are; the spirits, they kiss
my eyelids and paint our past gold


the same years that destroyed me glorify
you. you. you. you. the mantra in my
head, the miracle that rose again you
measure each pulse in my blood as I
repent


of the one I have loved so much more
than all of those who came before, yet
you know I never drink with the intention
of leaving, only of love –


only for you.
 
(a.h.z)