I wait for them in the night.
Those soft tears that brush
the edges of your pillow
like the slow coming of sunset- yet more sad.

I always insist there is something exciting about the movements of the sun.
But the stretching colors that accompany so many in their dreams
do not follow behind your screaming door-frames.

The entrance to your room makes loud noises
like irritated waves crackling on the shore;
like glasses drowning the bridge of my nose.

No, the thought that follows you is that of a lone shadow
accompanied by the moment when all traces of sunlight have vanished.
In the dark you clutch your own arms and bury your head in pillows-
controlling darkness and musing in salty suffocation.

Your coal-brimmed eyes don't go unnoticed
and the temple in my heart crashes to the ground
at the recognition of sadness in your eyes.

08/25/2005

Posted on 11/04/2005
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