photo 2-5

Can I be forgiven for my impulsive need

to present my love to you

as a viking would, after a day hard at work?

I’m physical about it

and chaos theory is the dress

I choose to wear to seduce you,

not those flimsy night-sky black things

or a cliché of words tucked up behind your ear.


Give me a fake beard first

and a palm full of surprises

to make you buckle

underneath forgotten desires

to roll with someone of your own flesh,

i know it’s there,

you men turn your back on us enough,

it’s just a thought.


Never love someone

who isn’t stronger than your darkness.

You will kill them every time

and spend the rest of your days

explaining the head on a stick

at the end of your bed

to your next lover

it can become tiresome.


But you never asked questions.

You accepted my grit

my madness

and lust for emotional bloodshed.


You just waited patiently

to see if the sword in my hand

would fall away in the face of your delicate beauty

unnatural for a man admittedly

more suited for a goddess

speaking ancient Greek from magic lips.

You could have spoken

incoherent babble

for all i cared

as i marvelled at your fingers,

just trophies on hands not from this world.


Again, I’m physical about it

and i saw myself arrange quickly

your internal magnificence

to match the outer shell, so perfect.

Whether real or imagined

I indulged my vanity

that you were mine

washed with your sunshine

every time we moved

into each other’s view.


Addiction to beauty

it’s akin to a serial art buyer.

I’d bid my blood to have that prize

next to me each night

and that’s all you were to me

it must have seemed.


Your love was more than mine i thought

so i could afford to be careless.

I was a swashbuckling hero to myself

because i never believed you knew how to be

just look the part

and be there when I come home

from severing heads of out-dated ideas

about how to move through life.


Quietly, you were writing secret sonnets to yourself

about the possibility of our “maybe” love.


I rode right over that

like a warlord blinded by personal victories

making my way to a new precipice

another conquest

forgetting with eyes wide open

how to encase another in perfect intimacy.


You just waited patiently

to  see if the sword in my hand would fall

until one night, alone again

you saw the space at the end of the bed

where your own head would stand.


You ran into the night

dancing over misplaced dreams

now scattered all around like forgotten tombstones

As I returned to my future of regret.


Now this weighty silence between us

has me filling the empty space with love songs to myself

just to hear us again.



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