we had a mutual loneliness and called it love
a magic kind of desire spun from the cobwebs on our lips
as long as we have each other we are not alone.
we clung to each others corpses like driftwood in the middle of the ocean
a shipwreck and its sailors, if you like.
is it love if its built from broken hearts?
is it safety if it’s built on top of quicksand?
I loved you like the last girl alive
but I hated myself more
and so, how can I be loved if I don’t let you soothe any part of me?
what were we if we pretend we were not a dying wish
holding each other so tightly in our arms
to keep ourselves together
to stop the shaking.
what can I say about our loneliness
sharp enough to make us weep
and tough enough to tie us up in knots?
it was something we called love
and it kept us alive.