you love him
sun and moon
dawn after dawn
in storms and snow
you still love him
he still doesn’t know
(you wouldn’t allow);

you love him
like a silent prayer
from a lonely youth
an ever-lasting need
(now and again)
for family
for truth;

you love him
and the last breath you take
before the night comes
(before you close your eyes
one last time)
is his name or the hope
for calling him home
(“calling him mine”);

you love him
your rough fingers
wrapped around
the trigger like your legs
had once been curled
around his scarred back
(there’s still satisfaction,
everything’s intact);

you love him
but your teeth nipping
at his lower lip
hurt more than the shots
to his chest
and the knife
in his back
(you can still taste the blood,
looking at the wounds
what have you done?
it’s still on your hands);

you love him
stardust and iron
fire and earth
wrapped around each other
tangled in misery
in regret
in hurt;

you love him
you show him
poison and alcohol
burn at your throat
(it’s all the same, all the same
doesn’t even matter
which reaches your heart first)
he doesn’t believe you
tries to forget
and fails
(do you feel content
or upset?)
(no, all you feel is thirst);

you love him
in the early morning
at the end of day
you still love him
without him knowing
without a say
(and you need it
to remain this way).