I was alone and the silent street empty;
So, imperceptibly, the faint gleam between
Darkness or nothing mirrored my solitude.
Yet this isolation is haunted
By an echo of your perpetual absence; or
The very trauma of knowing how separation
Blights this benighted city of shadows.
Will you never explain how, yesterday,
As the street-scene changed, mournful cries
Of desperation conjured those lowering
Storm-clouds, sky-high above bustling,
Apathetic crowds avoiding the downpour,
Preventing me from touching you, I say
Reaching you: there, where a dead bird lay
By an open drain, a symbol of consciousness,
Like the cracked-open surface of Time,
Calcified by pain; mute, numb and lost.
This is where logic cannot follow, where
Humiliating declarations of frustrated desire
Follow twisted, jaded feelings, interposed
Again, I say, ‘again’, between us.
I mean ‘You’ and ‘I’,
In this insane incarnation, where
Nothing, not even the dark, can ever
Restore the true nature of your perfection.
Your presence persists in this impossible,
Enclosed space, where a fleeting thought
Amid the transience of awareness is my only
Memory trace…of you.
Illustration Nick Victor