Ice Cement

I walked so far away from you
and your deep, cement eyes, but I
never forgot one footstep printed in them.
My own footsteps on loose ground
reminded me of the replicas of my soles
that I left in your hard eyes.

Your eyes were so thick with set
grey plaster that I was surprised
I had stepped heavily enough to imprint on them.

I missed every single line of you,
and I kissed the rim of wine glasses
that clinked together like your teeth
but it never felt quite the same.
My fist through the glass hurt like
the cyst in my heart that I wanted
to burst to expose my secrets, longings, pains.

The size of your record next to mine
makes me want to scour the skies
with my eyes instead of yours,
and pick out all the glamorous lies.

But that blueness is too wide,
and being so far from you I have no guide.
Every day my tongue just burns
and my lips are fried.
I'm locked in this box.
My gold, the flames fly in flocks.

Your concrete eyes torment me
while I'm trapped in my void,
every globule of cold destroyed.
Just to feel our words connect again,
would correct every aching cell of pain.

I hear your whispers inside my mind,
hissing violently, tempting me.
My fingers throb with perfumed desire,
straining to feel your cold, cemented presence.

Maybe if I board the next flight to Paris
I could escape the wrath of your
freezing particles, and the agonising heat of my withdrawal.

Or, even better,
I could be close enough to feel the
faint, icy mist of your breath.
written: Tuesday 31st August 2004, 9:46pm.