Others may not notice you
but I've seen enough of your bandages
to last forever

don't mistake this for bitterness
for I often wonder who tucks you in at night

its just there are so many of you -
some kind of war must be going on

the entire city is a secret battleground
and no one is talking about it
but I see the fear
beneath your silently screaming eyes
and often I want to stop you
and make you tell me

but I am too terrified that one day
I will find my face among yours.

Love,
its eternal flame
constant and strong,
while lonely disguises falter
in silent pain
and fear penetrates deep
like small cracks
sweeping through ancient porcellin;

we reach out endlessly
for love
holding only our honesty
within.

I stopped writing poetry
a lifetime ago
when the world failed
and we all sat around
silently watching
our tiny deaths each day
which everyone denies

if you don't believe me
just look into our eyes.

I was choking
on the endless lies
we told each other
amidst loving embraces
and soft tender kisses

the words
fit so well then,
but
they were not meant
to have a life of their own,

I murdered them
because they were slowly killing me

I never said
I would be brave
in love.

Sometimes I lose you
in a world
of confusion
and fear

sometimes you just won't
hang around to take
all the crap being flung

and there I stand
alone
without you
never sure of our past

as little glimpses come back to me
your pathway becomes clearer
and I hurry to embrace you
so that we may become strong again

but, as life moves on
I cannot hang onto you
for I know we shall part again
and again

yet, how could I ask for anything more.

A paris apartment
it is late afternoon
you are coming home from work
to me
like never before

sitting beside me in fading light
you whisper that you love me
it is all I can do to be still.

Cold marbled sky
numbs the pain we carry
on nameless streets
where
tight-lipped strangers
curse each step they take
and legless cripples
hold out torn paper cups
so close to our lips
that we become intoxicated
with the suffering
oozing from their presence.

Bright yellow and green
in motion
no choo-choo childhood fantasy
no miniature red caboose,
just rows of somber business faces
drained of all emotion,
which they store in old glass jars
at home
in some out of the way closet
along with
old after-shave and perfumes,
no long usable
on party occasions
because their faces feel too vulnerable.

On the train tonight
a madman shouted out
that I live a life of pretense
filled with clever false images

I should have strangled him there
but he was right -
the lies have to stop somewhere.

Cold, ***** water
rushing through
our small wooded ravine
on such a bitter day,
the wind blown rain
made worse by shocking cool air

oh, what do you tell yourself
on such a nasty day
to keep your mind fresh
and alive

do you hear the faint whispers
which follow you
endlessly
beckoning you to listen
but, out of earshot,
as if by some mad design -
seeming out of your hands,

but, wait
don't leave me now
without listening,
I want so bad for you
to understand,

oh, go then
in your empty hurry,
racing only yourself,
you fool -
I wanted to give you my heart

You live
in a world
without time,
your naked body
curled beside mine,

stirring to the morning light
with your even breathing,
your eyes open
and I gently tell you
of my love,
which words
could never express.

Images of a man and woman
come forth,
they look so fine together
their personal nightmare restrained

like figures forming a play
they seem so pleasant
carrying on in the day's light

what is clear is never questioned
sad, that we may have been spared.