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I knew I loved you

because of the way
you smelt my hair

I knew

I had found in you

a million ways of touching bliss

a thousand clich├ęs
our every kiss
every stroke
our every sunday morning

(and every lie)

you say

how beautiful -

but I'm not there
to listen

the ground beneath me
turns into


and as I kick and shout and spit

you're still looking for the flowers

you were playing a losing game

time to go back inside

and stop giving shit
back to the world

it's time to wipe the dust
off your face; grab

responsibility by its hair
and claim it yours

and as you cry

and stab yourself with blame

try and crack a smile
and know the burden of


the man
you once loved.

of death and life

unfamiliar ceilings -

the sky

openings for a soul

must we know that we will die?

to force the sea grow still

in the prospect of saving
one wave

(a trough without
a crest)

all perishes

and death comes in the form of

in the eyes of the people who love you

(along deserted roads

life never lies
never really hides from you

the necessity of loss)

now (an in-between poem)

a familiar face

a mother
(a face)

on a stick

on a pedestal
on a pedestal

on a pedestal

gazing at the brightness with which the future


(it comes from your 2 o'clock)

wistful, breezy - you don't even know it's there
but she insists, still looks for it - oh!

there's more


it doesn't twist


running to the beach in the still of the night
(half-stirred thoughts and

a lonesomeness

to remain)

frail at the strength of tears

to be swept away
by the smallest wind

and then

moments, when -

the realisation of the reality of things
gradually renders you


to feel the burden of a birdsong
you no longer enjoy

and cry

for the loss of


(scream is

ce n'est pas jolie -

c'est beau.

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