Pull me, oh lover
With your sacred melancholy
Wrap it around my throat

You, my infinite sadness
In your blue shadow
My black soul comes alive
In your frailty
My pride fades like fog
At the opening of an ocean’s dawn
This fairytale ache
You nourish
As a child in your hungry womb
How I long to hold it
But never touch
My fire, I’m afraid
Will burn it to dust
This is the curse

So I become the air
To fuse with your cashew flavoured skin
And your exhaled despair
Burning like an incense stick
In my diseased atmosphere
Know me only as nonexistent
In the garden of your comfort dreams
I belong
To the depths of the deepest deep
A ghost in prayer
For the anchor to drop
From your soaring fleet

To me
Waiting comes easy
As time does not exist
Slow motion heartache
This smoke burdened mist
And I am the rotten soil
Which your feet will touch
To kiss
The feeling of my dying universe
To miss
The anger of an infant god


Amit Howard