My heart was lost completely in that magical moment when you turned and looked at me for the very first time and whispered ‘beautiful,’ your dark deep eyes filled with everything I’ve ever wanted. We were at our highest then. After that it was only fall.

The other day – drink in hand, at sunset – you said people don’t ever really get over someone they love.I was trying to explain that old rule of thumb I read somewhere, where they say it takes half the time you were with someone to get over them.No, I don’t believe it either.

(the memory of)your kiss is still a knife I holdbetween clenched lipsa live bullet insidemy mouth

there are anniversariesthat creep up too softly,taking away everything:in remembrance,in remembering;I remember.do you?

you standbehind a wallof silenceI sit hereand bleedwordsI don't knowwhich one of usis wiserbut I knowwhich one of usstill loves

getting over you is scheduled for once in every two months – pace yourself in tripping me over: I’ve gotten over you in January just past; mess me up again on the Ides of March.

is it not enough that I know the shape of your smile against my skin?must I know everything?

sometimes in the afternoonsI see the moonhanging from invisible threadsin the sky it has your name carved on italways but there is no moon, and thereis no youthe eyes sometimes see what the heart wants

drawing outthe threads of tendernesswe tear into thishastily-woven tapestry of usturn magic into everyday abjectnessweave in aloofnessworldlinessawkwardnessun-tenderthoughtlessness

baby, if this werebreakfast time,I'd order you.

maybe I should apologisefor that time I kissed youso enthusiasticallyI thought we’d fall over;positively adorable, reallyif only I meant it –we could have madesomething of us

did you think I cared, really? – that time I held youand kissed you and kissed you again(and yes, again,of course)did you really think I cared?how could you?I barely saw youfor you.

sometimes when I enter a room I think that you have just left it – I can feel you almost a shimmering suggestion a slight pulsating glow of where you where and where you are not a scent perhaps, but then again – it follows me everywhere that scent that is you surely it cannot be? the clothes in ...

this month brought me you, heart-eater after the chill of December, January newness conjured up out of thin air, too suddenly you were there – a whirlwind, breath-stealer you brought poetry and laughter, in the month of love

again you have returned – a bruised leaf, not quite a flower but just as beautiful in certain lights – at these touch-points of return, I don’t know what you want from me – comfort, kindness, a soft-word-caress; you seek safety, solace – but there are times when even I have nothing to give

if you are tormented by dreams of me(call them nightmares if you will), how is that my fault?

I don’t use your given nameI can’t use the name I gave youdarling is a sorry substitute

this kissbrings me blissand it goes like this – a colon and an asterisk

this is how I always know it’s you: the tiny birthmarks between your shoulder and heart and on the inside of your thigh; the sound of your blood, the rhythm of the slow pauses between your heartbeats; the scent of your hair, taste of your skin; and most of all, the signature of your smile.

1 when you kissed me on the street and said I tasted of strawberries 2 when we watched ‘Titanic’; and you cried, and got mad thinking I didn’t 3 when there were others and you and I were still ours, us, always.