time as a funhouse hall of mirrors, fractureddo you feel alone today?
although i wrap you in me, it may seem
vain reassurance. do you regret much, or long?
in your eyes, i can see worlds of regret, and i
dare not speak, dare not say the words, even
supposing i knew what they should be.
too many sunsets. sunsets and snowfalls,
horizons broad and limitless and empty
in your eyes. if only you could stop the clockwork,
reach up, grab the decade hand and hold it
there, hovering, breathless. unfortunately,
you breathe; your body is a precise instrument.
should i lose you in me? should i allow that
ecstatic oblivion? the body is also animal, and
can live eternities in a single convulsion, an
opening and enclosing. i have lost myself
nearly completely, over and over in your
dense seduction. i cling to myself, and abandon again.
believe me -- if i could give it to you, unnameable it,
i would, down to my skin, to my blood and bones.
reaching to hold you up, my hands slip, pass
through, and i do not know which is the insubstantial.
hollows and edges, your face at night paints
despair better than any words, and if your sharp
angles shift to welcoming curves, if you smile gladly,
you reassure kindly, i am not convinced, fragile one.