The Eyes of His Lover

He looks into the eyes of his lover and finds only the ocean-smooth bottle glass. They whisper secrets and he keeps his heart inside his shirt, buttoned and zipped and locked-up tight. Day after day they grasp each others' hands and walk through misty streets just as the sun is greeting and goodbying. He does not understand why his lover throws away the photographs and why he never says "I love you." He does not know why he is so silent and careful not to be too nice. He only knows that his lover- this perfect man, made all of cold marble- his lover is not a lover. His lover does not love, his lover is not his own. Still, day after day they continue with the sleepy-eyed sunlight and sidewalks that blend into roads that blend into cars. Then one day it changes, and he knows only that his lover is not his lover, and he knows the red and the salt and the warm all around him and the cold all inside him. But he does not understand.

-end.