My Most Excellent Complaint Poem by guillermo veloso

Our love has no dignity
Love apportioned in grains
Like sand through an impossible hourglass
Minutes strangled in their crib before they are
Even born
Stillborn and blue in the apothecary's jar
Who can remember the graffiti
We left on the clouds
Carved with our passion
Who can see the we
That we were
When we were we
And life seemed an unending canvas
Ripe for the brush and sunlit paints
Now unfinished with only the patina
Of the dying oil lamp
That is our cage