it sounds romantic to say i want to understand you completly,
in every way you have the strength to exist.

a truthful compliment to your character until i taste the sea
and again, i am a bystander to all things broken and begging,
holding you under water
just to know your dying breath.




i am nursing the reminder
that bodies are an invitation


to an end.

i.
who are you to me
but a memento of past lovers
craving the broken promise
of something more than time
spent together, bound by years
of unkindness, sharing
nothing more than a thirst
for devotion and the weight
of idealism.

ii
time moves slow, 
as steadfast and lazy 
as the honeyed thoughts 
that drip languid 
off the hours i have spent
submerged, 
floundering
under the sharpened blade
of your liquid presence.

iii.
how long will it take
for the steel bars of your cage
to turn sharp in the fog of my mind?
can i blind you to the inevitable-
when that pointed edge
threatens my survival
and the worn role of victim
congeals in my quickened pulse?