Jane
was
a
poet
living
it
but
not
writing
it
down
words
strewn
around
the
room
scattered
across
the
floor
little
piles
of
heart
felt
i
dont
want
no
more
lost
unfinished
poems
willfully
destroyed
poems
just
too
fucking
personal
poems
full
of
pain
and
hope
poems
i
wont
keep
them
anymore
sometimes
when
a
poem
comes
it
brings
butterflies
words
strewn
around
the
floor
little
piles
of
heart
felt
lost
unfinished
poems
willfully
destroyed
poems
the
just
too
fucking
personal
poems
scatterings
of
love
hope
pain
and
fear
i
wont
pick
them
up
sanctioned
by
infinity
our
love
given
as
a
gift
from
stars
above
no
storm
nor
interloper
will
provide
the
means
by
which
we
two
will
be
divide
though
cracks
appear
and
seem
to
drive
a
wedge
we're
used
to
that
we
live
right
on
the
edge
stole
my
love
away
from
me
reaching
across
the
century
with
knowing
eyes
dark
as
a
storm
she
caused
a
rift
now
we
are
torn
a
sullen
brow
used
to
her
way
she
works
her
wiles
down
to
this
day
she
can
not
have
you
her
will
deny
for
you
were
meant
for
only
i
my
inside
is
all
caving
in
outside
is
just
a
shell
my
head
is
pure
exploading
din
around
my
neck
a
bell
now
my
love
is
looking
ragged
its
been
too
well
worn
left
in
the
rain
dragged
through
the
mud
no
wonder
its
all
torn
are
your
loves
your
infinite
loves
those
first
fallen
into
young
loves
mine
comes
so
late
a
torn
old
love
dirt
real
but
still
star
kissed
such
doomed
tis'
the
nature
of
it
tedious
and
self
absorbed
thats
what
i've
become
sit
crying
in
my
rocking
chair
god!
sucking
on
my
thumb
i
wish
i
could
just
grab
you
come
and
take
you
by
the
hand
run
off
to
a
beach
somewhere
trail
toes
through
pristine
sand
waves
the
only
sound
i
hear
filling
up
my
head
upon
days
end
the
perfect
close
sunset
beach
pillow
bed
i've
always
known
love
was
only
on
loan
stolen
to
be
given
back
OR
i've
always
known
your
love
was
on
loan
stolen
to
be
given
back
we
don't
live
in
the
same
dimension
but
the
walls
are
transparent
sometimes
we
step
through
we
two
stars
circulating
orbits
cross
to
touch
is
to
explode
the
gods
gave
me
a
lover
an
answer
to
my
prayer
but
what
they
didn't
tell
me
was
his
heart
would
not
be
there
but
oh
hes
such
a
lover
there
is
none
to
compare
so
perfect
in
his
broken
almost
too
much
to
bear
ears
cocked
he
listens
for
the
dirges
of
the
dead
feet
in
tune
with
their
dance
the
music
of
the
living
falls
on
deaf
ears
they
didn't
stand
a
chance
so
much
easier
to
love
the
dead
no
effort
required
no
flaws
recriminations
or
needs
to
meet
just
a
love
so
perfectly
preserved
dessicated
in
death
oh
sweet
death
please
take
me
now
for
my
lovers
in
love
with
the
dead
may
a
layer
of
autumn
leaves
shower
down
on
me
velvet
black
sucking
me
in
i
might
be
wot
u
need
i'm
not
wot
u
prefer
the
irony
not
lost
on
me
is
leaving
me
interred
well better ones
joy poems seem somehow to lack something
altho celebration of nature doesn't
love of trees etc frost...
betrayal
might
be
cold
but
it
still
burns
why
does
life
have
so
much
stuff
it
really
blows
my
mind
and
when
i
think
quite
tough ”
it
all
turns
most
unkind
how
quickly
his
love
changed
with
one
fell
stroke
from
tender
blush
to
bitter
recrimination
does
he
forget
so
easily
his
own
cavalier
betrayals
and
scoffing
at
my
pain
while
laughter
echoed
in
his
wake
the
growing
pains
of
love
once
so
young
and
shiney
bright
becomes
adult
disillusioned
then
shabby
crumbling
into
careless
old
betraying
näive
belief
once
held
that
it
could
never
age
andrew writes:
love
i
may
have
wronged
but
i
have
also
been
wronged
it
leaves
an
indelible
impression
love
never
quite
regains
its
memory
unlike
pressure
cooker
gaskets
sex
is
never
simple
first
theres
pleasure
then
theres
payment
retribution
the
power
in
a
babies
tears
drives
a
parent
to
their
knees
know
life
is
unfair
because
they
get
menopause
know
life
is
unfair
because
they
bear
children
i
have
lived
amongst
words
hidden
in
their
jungles
washed
up
on
their
beaches
found
refuge
on
their
islands
they
escape
me
now
and
spill
forth
when
infinity
strikes
time
stands
still
there
are
no
sounds
sunbeams
dance
i
leave
myself
and
go
outside
to
liquid
notes
and
golden
showers
i
want
to
give
you
my
illuminated
moments
hold
them
out
like
a
sheath
of
autumn
leaves
each
a
gift
in
jewel
like
colours
each
one
lasting
for
a
day
in
death
i
am
earth
wet
brown
leaf
skeletons
meld
to
my
face
closed
arms
outflung
breathing
deep
under
night
sky
why
does
love
a
prison
make
no
bars
on
a
view
but
walls
of
steel
man
might
complain
he
does
all
the
work
compared
to
her
he
doesn't
see
all
the
work
she
puts
in
to
him
watch
me
monster
walking
by
ponderous
slumberous
clumsy
but
see
me
from
the
corner
of
your
eye
tis
then
me
fairy
you'll
espy
ugly
chunky
repulsive
poems
dissonant
sounding
tumble
from
my
brain
plop
like
toads
onto
the
page
i
thought
they
were
winged
why don't they fly
is
there
any
house
of
cards
more
rickety
than
faith
in
human
integrity
deepest
wounds
only
a
lover
can
inflict
just
twelve
years
old
and
already
i
knew
i'd
lose
my
futile
bid
for
love
i
wanted
to
write
you
a
love
poem
full
of
soaring
passionate
beautiful
phrases
but
words
fail
me
and
i
them
so
here
it
is
when
a
woman
runs
out
on
a
man
in
tears
she
generally
wants
to
be
followed
where
do
the
un
written
poems
go
do
they
gather
dust
or
just
decay
will
never
autumn
leaves
or
write
a
route
of
andrew writes:
by
yourself
cooking
eating
cleaning
gardening
sleeping
working
money
computer
mowing
living
girlfriend
lover
your
brain
is
always
being
pulled
apart
being
pulled
apart
my
brain
lover
children
housework
washing
money
working
sleeping
gardening
cleaning
eating
cooking
living
together
life
can
be
like
a
trick
question
parenthood
is
nothing
but
doubts
human
female
does
not
see
beyond
the
glow
of
her
own
happiness
like
cattle
feeding
on
clover
knowing
nothing
of
the
slaughterhouse
she
cannot
see
the
precipice
at
her
feet
depression
arrives
and
takes
a
seat
in
the
room
a
cup
of
tea
cools
slowly
on
the
windowsill
we
are
all
in
the
end
merely
meat
its
only
the
beautiful
that
are
really
admired
for
what
they
achieve
plain
looking
is
often
passed
over
fiction
of
beauty
just
my
shape
for
crucifixion
love
is
a
voracious
creature
and
mere
male
is
but
a
morsel
my
lovers
love
once
shiney
new
has
tarnished
to
a
different
hue
some
times
i
want
to
chase
the
moon
right
across
the
sky
for
the
signs
ive
reached
my
use
by
date
andrews reply :
even in death
the crematorium has a use
andrew writes:
we
both
wanted
out
it
could
not
end
could
it?
ask
myself
imagine
scenes
death
is
the
only
consistancy
cobweb
lace
curtains
swathe
shed
walls
dead
spiders
dangle
beads
on
the
fringe
winter
sun
a
pinhole
in
the
sky
andrew writes:
so
strange
to
find
yourself
strange
to
the
normal
world
and
the
normal
world
more truely
strange
is
strange
and
what
is
normal
i
dont
know
is
that
strange
or
is
that
normal
i
dont
know
what
is
strange
and
what
is
normal
i
dont
know
seemingly
ceaseless
autumn
rain
the
garden
awash
becomes
a
bog
bedraggled
birds
fluff
their
feathers
frogs
sing
leaves
summer
sun
look
now
look again
they
have
passed
leaves
drift
to
the
ground
a
pale
sun
rises
dew
drops
glisten
diamond
like
soon
a
winter
frost
waves
of
affection
wash
over
me
im
drowning
in
my
love
you
are
an
island