god was always just a pair of eyes
on a chipping billboard in the centre of it all

he either doesn't have hands
or doesn't use them
i guess i'll never really see exactly
what you meant

but i know he's never done anything but
stare

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

I wake up
with you on my lips,
but it's only your name
and not your kiss.

I dreamt of you,
and I can’t get back
to our unconscious innocence.
I wish we had not woken.

The crack lets the light in.
Pitiless beams expose my lies,
and reveal your absence.
Regret is making coffee in the kitchen.

what does it feel like to be held
not by another body
not by a set of limbs, a chest, a chin
but
by another soul

what does it feel like
to see truth in another pair of eyes
instead of hidden intentions
instead of absence

what does it feel like
to hear a familiar heartbeat
resounding next to your own
reaching through skin
through bone
two rhythms
indistinguishable

what does it feel like
to write poems about
a love that exists