You ensnare me
with your languid poems.
With your luxurious honeysweet speech.
I touch the piano softly, so softly, and
how I crave you.
To escape from the blank white days
I have chased you through a million bloody sunsets,
ignoring the fact that you have
stolen my legs
to use when you lose your own.
You have stolen my eyes, too,
and there are spiders that live in there now,
worms that whisper when I am sleeping.)
Surely I have proven
that I will say the moon is the sun
and the sun is the moon without pause.
That I will watch you
even when you are impossible to see.
why are you still so
Dark to me?