(no subject)

[deathfrombeauty]

I
why not merely the despaired
occasion of
wordshed

is it not better abort than be barren?

the hours after you are gone are so leaden
they will always start dragging too soon
the grapples clawing blindly,
the bed of want.
bringing up the bones
the old loves
sockets filled once with eyes like yours
all, always is it better too soon than never
the black want splashing their faces
saying again nine days never floated the loved
nor nine months
nor nine lives

saying again
if you do not teach me i shall not learn
saying again there is a last.
even of last times
last times of begging
last times of loving
of knowing..not knowing...pretending
even a last times of saying
if you do not love me, i shall not be loved
if i do not love you, i shall not love

the churn of stale words in the heart again
love love love THUD of the old plunger
pestling the unalterable
whey of words
terrified again.
of not loving
of loving and not you
of being loved, and not by you
of knowing...not knowing...pretending
pretending

I and all others that will love you
...if they love you
unless they love you