Love is a most accidental disaster.
It changes the tides of the world.
The moon that shoves and pulls
a planet.
I have never recovered from
its hunger,
the knife blade of its pain.
Its words haunt me.
They failed me,
and taunted me.
I died when I used them.
I pounded them with my fist
when I wrote them,
and when they burned
with the fire I put them to,
my tears could not rescue them.
There are loves that hate me,
and have buried me,
and forgotten me.
But I go to them
when the night leans on my heart.
When I am exhausted from living.
When I am frightened by loneliness.
I want one more time
to exchange a glance,
find a treasure
to surprise their hand,
to call at an odd moment
and tell them,
I am being destroyed loving you.
What a wonderful death you are!
Falling to earth
shouting your name.