It took so little:
a cat, a house, some words
that weren't "ours"
to fantasize this atrocity
of doubt
because love was
far too difficult
to believe.
It takes the simplest twist
to throw oneself in a fire
and flames are always calling
for any occasion of desire.
I pick myself up
when I never even fell,
dust off the nothing on me,
walk through the terror
that I haven't changed already
and mourn a past
I can't remember,
some voices in adjacent rooms:
no words, but tones of love.
