A nightmare of a permanent romance of my youth.
The physical remain of him,
floating through the same dreams.
We compare strange affinities.
The same, his and mine.
Oh, had you loved me!
I reserved our ruins through dark, tender tree.
We lighted up by the colored inks of memory.
Stars between silhouettes under the sky;
they emitted radiance of their own.
His hand, a dreamy pleasure, coming over in waves of ecstasy.
With a soft, woeful mouth he would relieve the pain,
My darling.
My heart.
Hold in my passion and my senses
as we ache with that haunted spell.
I look back in repetitive scraps, like storms of tissue paper,
whirling in the wake
where frustrated poets end.