When I Say That I Miss You
When I say that I miss you, I will tell you what I mean:I mean that dreams come as antagonists,
And my breath as an assassin,
And that my footsteps fall as archers do
From battlements,
With their blood and organs falling after.
I mean that my breast is a bellows of sighs,
Panting at embers as distant as stars,
Imparting and receiving nothing
From a void as old and unregarding
As the hollow face of Death.
I mean that all that I taste is the flavor of dust,
And I love with the love of a traitor,
And my grief is of the widower,
Who grieves to scorn
And scorns the end of grieving.
When I say that I miss you, I will tell you what I mean:
I mean that forgiveness
Is a cowardly kind of vengeance,
As you know –
Dear Misfortune!
As you know.
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