When I woke
                      you were gone.

A bowl in the pillow
where your head   slept,

   six     hours
   pouring what passes for coffee
these days.

In a text
you told me

you burnt your hand,
     showed me

     a pomegranate splash that danced
between your fingers.
     Ouch, it still hurts you know...

Didn't hear you come in,
                            silent angel

but your perfume
   lingers like a   delicious poison
  
and I notice flowers
   are starting to crumble
as snowballs     on our window.

   No mirror
   so I cannot see

whether you've  left
     a cherry   lipstick birthmark

on my cheek
   or a note which says
didn't want to wake you!

Got this feeling,
   jet lag maybe

   but I haven't     moved,
haven't   flown     anywhere.

I flump my arm
   into the blank     space
where your   body ought to be.

Tell her.
Tell her that the way her voice sounds makes your bones tremble.
And the way your name sounds when it rolls off of her tongue is indescribable.
Tell her that if she were to remove your brain from your head, all she'd find is her fingerprints.
Tell her that written along the walls of your heart is her name.
And that this secret that has been locked away in the marrow of your bones cannot be contained any longer.
So go.
Tell her.
Love is not a whisper.
It is not a thought that cowards in the back of your mind when she is near,
And comes back when she leaves.
Love is standing on the top of a building and screaming until your throat bleeds.
Love is igniting a fire that cannot be contained nor put out.
Go to her.
Tell her.

deep into the wet and salt
uncried tears bracing cheeks
don't matter

run before the wind
slipping on the moon's reflection
lose the world behind  
in whalesong

turn back only then
when the swell has tossed
all inside shifting still

turn back to the world
torn pockets spilling sand

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

Brown and furry
Caterpillar in a hurry,
Take your walk
To the shady leaf, or stalk,
Or what not,
Which may be the chosen spot.
No toad spy you,
Hovering bird of prey pass by you;
Spin and die,
To live again a butterfly.

I still repeat words you said to me over in my head.
And now I only speak in tongues,
For few understand the ramblings of a loveless madman.

I was running,
You were chasing,
You ran out of breath,
I never realised you'd given up.

We are hopeless lovers
Distraught in worlds of unimaginable alone-ness
And I only want you.
I only want you.
And you are not here.