“In the darkness of the hour when I loved her”
In the darkness
the blood wells up in veins and the shady tree covers my grave
I lay in the wet earth dying for every day
laying here in the sunlight -remember-
your dreams they become realties
(remember your nightmares)
in the mirror I see myself as the dark eyed
elvish sidhe that I might have been
the changeling spirit that came through
the window
through the spirit through the nightfall
and I became the demon that haunted my days
candles burn and the wax smells
“I love and am loved”
by a small part of the earth
where the tree bears fruit
not of knowledge but of passion
the mirror cries but I do not recognize
her tears
flesh is madness
love is flesh
therefore to love flesh is to be mad
impoverished by the truth
sometimes the
darkness is the
hour when she loved me.