our night began when we knew
we’d been given too much. it was
bitter enough for an undertaking of lovers
and sharp enough for a task of
human reason, because happiness,
the absence of fear, is not of this world.
the charge fell out like a rift in a
shared appendage, it propelled streams of
innumerable guilts inside both of us,
pulling us like an anchor
to the point where loneliness hurts most.
brutal like too selfish drowners,
we struggled in search of each one’s distant,
uncertain shore, indifferent to
the harsh dryness of sand
that lay ahead, patiently waiting
its quarry.
Niciun comentariu:
Trimiteți un comentariu