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Thursday, September 13, 2007

When Love Dies

like separate, discontinuous lanterns
the fireworks thrusted into the sky
wailing, shrieking blurs banging,
exploding lights of brilliant
repeating designs that frightened you;

you furrowed, burrowed into my chest,
hot, dripping tears, dropping down me,
your fingers tightly prowling
the highway of my back, circling,
my own hands could not alter
your explicit fear of sky-fire;

you fought hard to keep your trembling
inside your body, the raw pulsing rocket
music driving you deeper into me,
your scent strong in my nostrils,
calibrating every moving part of me,
I tried to whisper you free;

It's only noise, just hear it as noise,
trying to invest in a cool attention,
scraping from the self's multiple desires
to pull you closer in for a kiss,
long pauses between explosions,
major tension in both bodies;

and yet when finally the fire subsided
outside and rose inside us,
unvaried by deep scars of doubt
you could not let me fully in,
no tender hesitation to bind us
but full withdrawal to cut the string;

that was the moment love died for us,
and no remembrance can render it less,
fatigue with self, the hunger for obliteration
that wakes in us to fuel good sex
had starved itself out. Of course I didn't say it.
But like the fireworks, we had let love die out.

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