Stop writing poems after your eyes swim
in him. You can't keep living like this, sinking
then floating by the memory of the last
words he played under the church spotlight.
I tried to avoid him tonight, but why, God?
Why couldn't he evaporate beneath me? Why
did he stay to listen to my musings?
I'm sorry for writing of our affairs after our
love died, in other universe. Words can't
cause him to go, for this affection to liquidate
into rivers I never have to curse again.
Words can't always do the heart
justice... (Is there ever a cure?)
