Tomorrow I Will Be Far

Hear the crying of my lover
bare icy delight
(what a world
that keeps time)
too horrified
at the rapture
the gush
of molten happiness

Mad melancholy
(what a tale)
the frantic sobbing
(of now or never)
mercy is a deaf endeavor
from his throat a groan
the moan of liquid salutes
the silence of rocks

The shadows of dead faeries
brushed by in the grass
and told everyone

I smile when I go by them
(so badly hidden)