Love
Love
Love
My love,
Death was a whisper.
Shall I say to you now
Of my loves-
Would you hear me?
You would be one.
The first of a few
If I were true
But I can’t seem to remember
The second.
A bundle of lilies.
Rot grows sweet
On frost.
Dear Mercutio did say
“Dreamers often lie”
But what of poets?
Poets lie.
I lied about your love.
The untruths do run clear here.
You never loved me.
And Hell is no more than a fire.
But I seem to confuse myself
It is an often occurrence here.
Perhaps you must have loved me
I will it.
It kills me so
That I am separate you.
I wander and wander
In the night as it drips like wax
Until I cannot move.
Is that you, my love
Standing at the window?
Hand against glass.
I hope that you may see me
But the snow does blind.
I am some schizophrenic
Trapped in an icebox.
Your rosy cheeks
And red, red lips.
Frozen by the chill
Such a flower preserved.
You sing a French lullaby
And I mourn you even more.
To you,
Death will always be lilies.
I will always be a lover
Looking through windows
To find you
In the faces of others.
It is soft
The sleep in which I walk.
Oh’ my love,
How you would love it.
Remember the days?
Remember, my love.
Please remember,
Remember me.
I am cold and this sleep
Is a drug.
But your love is what
Wakes me.
What is this phantom
Which I have become?
Obsessed with her lover
Whom she never loved.
Is life so sweet?
That you forget the dead.
I am here always
Waiting for you
To join me.
