The Darkness

Do not expect such things as love, despair,
Or worship. Adoration is too fine
For my heart. I express myself through wine
And other stimulants (a woman's hair,
The memory of sirens, or the glare
Of stars), external, preferably divine,
But anything will do that isn't mine.
I have too little tenderness to share.

I gesture from the distance, promise you
The praise that I denied you earlier,
A token of affection. Coming to,
From darkness, from the darkness where we were,
We exchange cries of recognition, true,
But we remain apart, tactful, unsure.

Our Hearts, part 5