Imagine this:

We are in a car that is
plummeting over a cliff
after spinning through a guardrail
off an icy mountain road, and we know
that our time is hopeless
and about to end so
I stare at you intently while
the rocks below
come racing toward us.

Can you see the look on my face?

This is how I look at you
every morning
between 6:15 and 6:25,

10 minutes
of loving the gift of you
with my eyes,

as if I’m
about to lose you
and I need to sear your image
in my mind
so it will always be with me,

even in death.

in a wine glass
sleeves of a sleeveless dress
knotted
around its stem
and a bull’s head sleeping, breathless
tangled
in the scent of pearl and warm flesh
standing on a drumbeat
balanced
by a prism’s deceptive stammer

I never take chances
I never make the first move

But for you, I'd do anything
And for me, you were not

I'm back where I started
Aching more than ever now

It just goes to show, life is not yours for the taking

And neither are you

I tie threads to my eyelids
Pushing them down,
Shutting them for the day,
Putting myself to sleep.

One eye bats, then the other; perhaps together,
But they never fully close.
The sclera shines and lines like the sea waves’ froth.
I rest my head, curled-up in bed
While the words begin to follow
And I ask myself
“Should I get up and write or just let it go?”

The right eye whispers,
“Sleep, poor *****, let’s write when the sun shines tomorrow,”
But the impatient left, stares hard and says,
“What if you forget it all with the morning sorrow?”

So I gather the thoughts on my pillow,
Grab a paper and a pen; they say “hello!”
I write my own lullaby,
Scribble and sigh,
Oh, it’s just another sleepless night,
But I feel alive
Because I write, I write,
Oh I write.