A very strange poem-esque thing. Written after walking through many a cemetery in search of a lost love. This is the story I found there.

***

OYOU

O you.

He likes to roam the cemeteries when the moon is full.

Says it gives him something deep inside.

He walks like an elf, talks like a poet.

When he smokes it is me who can hardly breathe.

I don't know what to say,

Or do,

Or think -

I just know I never want him to leave.

He gets a glint in his eye when I smile at him.

He can scare and entrance me with a tilt of his pretty head

(he knows it too)

I tell him no and he asks me why.

He's never there when I start to cry.

(sometimes when he is I want to die…)

I hold his hand, he never holds mine.

But he says the smell of my hair makes him want to live again.

I wish he did.

I can't speak when he is here.

We never talk.

I stare.

We never kiss.

So does he.

(why can't a moment last forever?)

I know every contour of his face.

When I am gone, where will my memories go? Into a big glass jar in the centre of the earth and his too.

Our two,

Very separate,

Loathed, loved

Gorgeously ugly

Realities.

I wonder if I am in his.

***