We are full of flames and woe and bad coffee drank hurriedly in the mornings.
full of half held hands at the frontier of a war we signed for,
passing each other in the hall of an early morning
full of the cries of children and bills.

How could I be so foolish to not believe that you would light my soul on fire without even taking off a glove, as you blend your hand in mine.
In this cityscape, I dream of empty dunes of sand, standing in time, sweltering.
                                                                                  letting us do whatever, wherever.
In this city scape, I dream of endless love, of better mornings, better decisions, time reversed into the knowledge that there will not be
a different tomorrow.
make love to me on a rock of glass, and open every window
before you begin to mold the shapes of doors to the house you’ll break for us.
Voices do not echo in these caves,
so I wonder why every time you open your mouth, you speak in a daughter, a son, a wife – these languages of everlasting love that I will not share, that I will not understand.