Speaking Of Love

Do not envy me or covet it.
There is nothing erotic in my unhappiness.
No riderless white horse galloping through the woods.
No clock shattered into a hundred pieces.

So why do you insist on coming?
Is it words, more words to misinterpret?

Are you looking for a heart that fits in your hands?
Or do you simply desire a wooden body
To knock knock knock against yours.

We don’t sing out our pain like birds their songs.
This pain is my pain not your pain.
This dark is my dark, mine.
And that howling that you found so touching last night.
Won’t be silenced by a kiss however expert or sincere.