I gather your remarks
like candy on Halloween
and gorge myself on them
alone in bed with the lights off.
I have become an addict
for the agony of your bruising
I create towers out of
your glances and I build
my little cities around them,
thinking they will be protected,
thinking them safe in the shadows
of these pillars I’ve made of you. Do
fools get called artists as well?
I close my eyes, I open
my eyes and either way I am
nothing but the debris left in the wake
of your departure and nothing has
ever washed away the soot from
this burning love, I am changed by
your existence and I can’t wipe it away.