fragments: old poems

~ Unknowingly ~

I say it with caution
but
I know you.
I know the face,
both within and without
and every mask that
slides, smoothly or painfully
over another.

I know the nakedness,
when smooth skin
and jagged mind are laid
bare:
You look away from ugliness,
when all I see is that
which is as distant from
beauty as you are from
me
(lost, entangled).

I know the puzzles,
and the answers
that puzzle me more,
I know the dreams,
know especially well
the ones
you fear to dream.

I know of the painful steps,
the minutes you want
to give up;
I know you are me
and I am you
just as much as we are
not each other:
I know the yous.

Now to un-know you.

Written 02/03/11

—-

~ rot ~

What once was
fluid and charming,
lived and grew,
ever-changing, ever-moving,
breathing silently
through you and
me
is now this–
a loud stench in the room,
a black, bloated
carcass
beloved only to
maggots
who celebrate our death.

Perhaps some day
the smooth ivory bones,
dry as ashes
and dust
will bare themselves to
beauty and
adorn my hair
or neck.

Written on 22/07/11

—

~moon-dream~

I dreamt of you
last  night, in black,
white and enchanting
greys:
Perhaps it was because I’d fallen asleep
on a little patch of moonlight
who was resting
upon my bed,
exhausted,
and dreamt upon the
silver strands of his chest;
and as he stroked my eyes
I found your lips,
inside his monochrome kiss.

Written on 07/02/2012