The ship clock strikes twelve but it’s not too well
I’m almost warm with a tepid pillow to console
me as I lay here thinking of what I once held dear:
our vows and words before the jabs and wounds.
The night is solemn dark and in the silence beats
this star-stuck heart; I should feel good that’s fair
to say, though yet not cured from the flowing fair-
ness of your hair, your scent I used to know too well
before bereft of warmth you left this broken beat.
In knells of absence; not even silence can console
my weight of broken bones, my burning wounds
why did adventures cease so soon. Oh dear
do you still remember lustrous worlds, how dear
it was to touch my skin? to do it straight and fair
and how you had me tightly wrapped and wound;
when I lay tamed in lust and longing right before the well
was filled, before we rested sated, and consoled;
before we turned the ship to somber drum-beats
Through wars we slept — arm-wrapped on the heartbeat
lullabies; and you, you whispered to me: “you are dear
to me, my fearless lover” and you kissed, consoled
me into cotton candy dreams; our living soft and fair
in dappled sheen and I believed that all was well.
Before your tongue had sliced these open wounds.
Do you still recall how our star-ship went and wound
through parsecs, galaxies of light to gentle beats.
We sailed on light beams; existed all too well
among familiar stars where fears were few and dear
when somewhere on a comet’s tail there was a fair
for weary travelers like us to dance enjoy, consoled
from homesickness, reprogram our ship’s console
repairing star-sails, drink to forget our wounds.
After travelling together how was it even fair
when you decided it was time to split? “I’m beat”
you said, “From now let’s just be friends my dear”
You left me for that alien djinn but wished me well.
The air is bright and fair the lights, A clock beats
but, no message on my console blinks to heal the wounds;
without you dearest ghost, nothing’s ever really well.