Loneliness: a face through a window,
Happiness: he tells me to smile, Says
That sad eyes are prettier when drunk.
Make love in a dark room and forget that you
This room is blue—
Why don’t you have another drink?
Why don’t you laugh loudly?
He didn’t want to hear it.
A fever by any other name
Would not know fever.
Would not know self.
Would instead be:
“a dirt-stained window”
I see glass.
I count my ribs when mirrors appear before me.
Always bodies of distance.
Always—adoration has been here,
I just cannot recall right now.
Right this second,
Heartbreak, wine breath,
Are not words—
Were the right questions curved
Were they forged as mistakes,
I think I heard once that
Love is a home built in the shape
Of a question mark.
Are you listening.
I recant only the empty kind of dark.
You can take my words back.
I now understand
Love: a face behind a window.
Somewhere you are not.