You see through me, driving me down to knees like stone. You never knew your world never knew you. I left a mark that fades on your skin. When I hear you from the other room, where I am is loss.
Don't turn around. Your hair is caught. Tiny mites on scarlet blooms. Scavengers in the desert, paradisiacal night. Words collide. Pull back black polar sky.
Don't turn around. See through me. You give me your deceit with both hands. It is small, warm and black. It crumbles and my hands are filled with green dust flecked with red. Your descent you shared with me, your labours and the hair caught in your jacket-clasp. Your laughing limpid eyes that flicker water, remember nothing. Here, you forgot this.