all the better to see you with

Even in the mirror I Can not be sure
which is mine,  who is me?
This face they accuse me with stares back
trapped in glass, cold to my touch
synchronised sinking
listening close to every word you never told me
in the middle of the night
leaking lost thoughts
wanting always this falling
into deeper dreams of you

a meeting in a passage

time holds out her hands 

touching me

all over nowhere

proving nothing

thrusting with life

unready and willing

whiling away souls already spent

taking each breath away. 

break my own back

my hands reach down

pressing hard into the earth my feet forgot

re-assesing both up and down

as my heart swells with the lightness of empty space

until I'm not so sure about holding it all together

how I worked so hard to make it hard

and now I want that softness back. 

The truth is

the truth is a whore
but theres nothing wrong with that
only your own hatred
for yourself
for the small price
of wanting
more than you think you deserve.