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Of Muses

(7 march 1988)

November Heart


Afar from my bed, you sleep
in your true form, naked
engulfed by another's heavy arms.

On your skin, the marks my lips left
are already gone.

In your eyes,
I cannot see my reflection anymore.

My hand reaches
but it cannot grasp your shape.
The palm returns empty.
You are not there.

'I will never be there'
you say today.
'for I cannot trust you'
But why can't you?

Funny how,
those that you entrust your dearest dreams
are always the ones that dig you
the deepest grave.

You are to me,
more than you will ever know,
and yet,
a memory, and a shadow,
a silent doll
you want to become.

Bride of my heart,
can't you see,
that he's only stealing the kisses,
I'm craving for.

At your feet,
I lay my troubled head,
there, where months ago, your tears
were spilled because of me.

I'm waiting for the guillotine,
I guess.
I cannot stand to see
how love becomes dust.

Submitted: Tuesday, May 07, 2013
Edited: Friday, May 10, 2013

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