Come, my love, and share the muted dark,
deep
beneath the layers where our passion lies.
Share with me the whispers and gentle touch,
single
words and wounds only half-suppressed.
Stay with me until the morning light reaches
past the
blind's edge, to draw us back to day.
I saw you toady as you will be
thin and grey dressed
in the clothes of someone
half your age.
Muttering
your movements abrupt
comfortable in your beliefs
the world at arm's length.
Your perfume of smoke
and our milk and urine
your hollow eyes searching me for
coins or a kind word.
Finding neither you shuffle past
and I expect you to turn back
suddenly to cast off your coat of age
and become the one I knew.
But you spit sleeve
to mouth and I turn back
to my life
forgetting that
I ever loved you.
The cup outside your window
fills with rain
spilling over in stutters.
Sometimes I feel that even a
stalker would have nothing to do with me
that even Hitler would refuse
to annex my distant regions
that even you would forget to
return my call.