Life of having two hearts
One that knew the love,
knew the eyes of doom,
knew the feeling of an upcoming tempest.
At what time to arrive at the amorous place,
before lifting one’s gaze,
after the plume of saline, in amalgamation with citric fragrances—
overpowering, and of rich darkness—
went immortal from the lawn fields,
into the glass world,
and fell there, from the great heights—******.

And another heart—substitute in armor—
longed for no specific lore,
just remembered nothing,
and, hitherto,
known for no desire
to love.