may I inform you. that I am no better off than I was. and that I was always better. but now, in the infirmary, I wonder, out loud, about all this stuff that has come to pass, to make me wonder about the stones and clouds. I seek your comfort and reason. I am foolish enough to pass the time this way. thinking it will all work out, by not working it out. my time is wasted and yet, the wondering suffices for something. was I enough for you? did I catch you while you were still alive? did I give you cancer or cause your drought? was I the wine when you wanted water, or the water when you needed wine? what predicament did I get you in? did you wait for me in the pool of your ideas? are there any empty glasses for a cup of tea? did you burn your fingers on this stove... and can you ever forgive me for running off with the perfume of your fingertips? I was without love in my imagination...I was without you.
and now. I just remember, that I was always in the garden, kissing your lips. always locked in the passion of your infallible lightning love. always better, ever better.
and this is just me. phoning in... pantomiming to the stars, with licorice lover letters, hoping you find me on the outskirts, of something worth pursuing.
I Love You,
Your Beloved
No comments:
Post a Comment