For every fire you drive into me

another quietly perishes.

Of all my selves the one

that you most occupy

is the least recognizable

and it is for this reason

that I love you.

Arranged by you, for you

I bloom, morose but wild

for it is chaos which feeds us.

My heart gives way

first to a garden and then later on

to a coffin of unrequited stars.

It is in the thin places

that I will make a home

for the two of us.

Nothing is real

least of all the taste of you

which falls over me

like an avalanche

of sweet, sullen dreams.

I touch the darkness

with my naked skin.

Your loneliness,

is heavier than my loneliness

because I am after all here

even if you do not see me.

I am forever consummate,

forever yours

and if that matters to you

then I have lived enough

for one day.

6 thoughts on “The Thin Places

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