A great sadness creeps into my room each morning
A sadness propelled forward by my waking to your silence.
I lay there,
listening,
though I'm never sure for what
until I remember -
once in this house lived another.

And I pad softly down the hallway
making my breakfast routinely -
porridge on the stove top, kettle boiling for tea.
Feeding my dog,
sitting down to watch t.v.

When did my mornings commence to be this?
When did I stop waking
to the smell of burnt toast
or to the sound of a running tap?
When did my mornings become so hollow

and so picturesquely lonely?


In every morning making breakfast
when the kettle boils and i don't offer you tea
a great sadness comes upon me
and I sit at the table in silence,
listening to the tap
drip
    drip


          drip
and nobody comes down the stairs.

I know many boys,
of whom I am fond.

Like a diamond that's been smashed and scattered over fields
They all have
something special.

But you were

The Philosopher's Stone.

Last night I dreamt of you
and we made love for the last time.
And keeping true to your habit
of making me feel like I was a sacred creature of nature
you looked into my eyes
and exclaimed
‘wow’.

And it awoke in me
those aching and burning edges in my chest
where you used to be
And so I know that today
no matter the weather the world will feel grey.

And maybe this is our goodbye.

So I’ll go to that place
where you and I are frozen in time
where the sun sets
and I smile
because you’re holding my hand
and the warmth
is like God.


Maybe this is our goodbye.

I should have sat with you, holding your hand,
until,
robbed of life, it turned cold.
Because now in my dreams,
I see you always,
your yellow broken body wrapped in a white sheet...
cold, pale, and alone.
And when I was 11 and sick
you stayed with me always,
sleeping on the linoleum floor on a makeshift bed.
And when I was 4 you would hold me in the mornings
because you never wanted another,
to feel as alone as you.
I should have sat with you, holding your hand,
until,
robbed of life, it turned cold.
Because now in my dreams,
I see you always,
and the irregular hear monitor goes on.

He who burns
Lets; me shine| as bright as he
Fury, Justice, Passion,
Devastation, Euphoria
through rocky, unkempt seasons
Will live under starlight| And
kissing the sun,
scream life into he
And Knowing now
candle flames| two
when put together burn brilliance
And brightly Fiercely
There is no other image I
will live in.
He who burns, brightly; will
catch his flame on mine -
He will find me.

The summer is hot
but a cold wind blows over me.
I am thinking of you
and all that I've lost
and how !a thousand suns
couldn't warm my heart now.