I only wanted to love you (not for you to see me in return)

from far away

where I cannot touch

and slowly quicken the death of a heart.

But never breathing.

In some kind of quiet melancholy, the leaves seem to drift in shadows.

And the season passes without a word, soundless like the trees that watch over me, shedding colored tears - lonely confetti, for the carnival that never came. Bright against the storm-grey sky, each oak sags beneath the pressing clouds that seem so out of reach, and crowned in gold they bathe in the tainted light that belongs to an ancient day.

And the heart that will die with the sun.

And dr - drop - dripping like the saddest rainstorm you ever saw, weeping beautiful poetry to fall gently and damp upon my upturned face.

Lying on the road lined with wrought-iron gaslights, claimed by the yesterdays that refuse to return, I only wish that I could sink into the kaleidoscope dream - that sweet and sanguine nightmare that kisses my shoulder and leaves me cold, shuddering in the mourning light, drained of colour,

for it has slipped between the floorboards and underneath the slighted windowframe

And in that drafty room with a view, love sang that fleeting song, the haunting refrain that won't leave me be; a whispered promise that fell out of favour.