We were directly opposed,
circling each other in a confining pool,
my mouth seeking yours, but only finding
the fragments of composure you left in your wake.
"Nunc scio quid sit Amor",
you said once, and I agreed with you,
then looked up what the hell you meant
as soon as I was alone.
We went stargazing when we were hungry
and fed ourselves with the names
and the glow of all the stars
that spread themselves out to tease us.
"This is what I see in you," you flattered,
pointing at the sky while the wetness of the grass
soaked into our backs.
"You're that string of pearls, right there,
hanging around the neck of the sky.
You are more than what I’ve been looking for,
more than anything I've ever tried to find,"
you painted stars and lies.
I left you job listings in the mornings,
and you told me my fortune,
in the bottom of my teacup.
We were directly opposed; I told you to leave if you wanted,
so on a night too cold for me to see the comfort in your dreams,
you left, gathering your gadgets and souvenirs.
I couldn't find the taste of ginseng pleasant,
nor read the words of dusty geniuses
whom you'd left lying on my shelves.
Pegasus was lost without you,
with the dull rope of Pisces beneath her wing;
I was alone, so I searched for you
finding clues in the faintest signs of you.
When I found you with a bag of broken clocks
and no grasp of reality, I loved you.
I told you, "Amor sempiternus,"
and you couldn’t respond.