The city is peopled
with spirits, not ghosts, O my love:
Though they crowded between
and usurped the kiss of my mouth
their breath was your gift,
their beauty, your life.
- Why are you looking at me that way?
- Because there is nothing оn this earth that’s better than you.
To touch my tongue I know someone who could serve me love But it wouldn’t fill me up
I like high places now, and night. I’ve come to associate altitude and darkness with a kind of tenderness–it’s a time when I let my mind wander, when I dream, when my cigarettes seem to taste different. It’s the time when I love you.
I adore you, but I hate you too. You’re a prison smothered in flowers. I can’t stand this enchantment anymore, I can’t stand being bewitched like this–when I look at you, my gaze turns to nothing but a mirror of light, I’ll stare at you hypnotized for ages, and when I stop seeing you I’ll feel you, and when I stop feeling you I’ll die.
You are killing me, but you have a right to. Never have I seen a greater, or more beautiful, or a calmer or more noble thing than you. Come оn and kill me. I do not care who kills who.
Someday, somewhere, with someone, there may be the chance to balance, to stabilize, to learn to integrate all. Who knows? But maybe?
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