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Before your misty eyes I stand, out of focus, Almost disappearing as vapours do, these days, Into the nature of their molecular selves That renders all the tears like molten milky ways. How can memory endure it, the love no more, As if those minutes did not count a single thing, When the touches seemed to go beyond all control Into the zone of the nameless deepest desiring. What I feel is as a victim of circumstance That exists in my world without ever being seen By the most upright and clearest headed people Who from time to time want to ask where you have been. Next time, I will want more, perhaps some guarantees. My needs will grow out of a new found loneliness Like a small island bountiful but so unknown, Or just bury the head minding my own business. |
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