crying — that godawful sign of life
panic — occasional sign of love —
sparrows in their branches shrieking to each other
about the cat in the grass.
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Give me Antares, the brightest star in the Scorpius nebula
as Libra season runs dry.
Give me Jack rendered dull by work without play
and Mia Farrow’s tannis root charm.
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Laid bare,
next to glistening candelabras,
bound naked atop shining silver,
served on a platter.
Placed next to glinting cutlery,
and fine wine to wash her down with.
A table set for a king.
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Midnight strikes with pixy breath pervading
Across starlit doors once wide, slowly closed
With the sound of chiming, butter melting,
With the dawn approaching for sunset I end
On an island with cruel Calypso.
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My heart didn't break
When we decided you couldn't see it anymore
Or that night when both of us
Broke that promise
In a silent, red regret
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If sleep is death being shy,
Then a single bed is a shallow grave,
Then pillow talk is your final breath,
Then goodnight is goodbye.
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