I made you so beautiful and I could never live
holding you up like a carrot for my own flesh
I said you looked like me but I lied and lied and here lying secretly
so long since in my own skin,
I know how perfectly different you were
and how all my wishing wouldn’t will away our divergence.
your wine-rich voice and my late-night silent whining
pining to be the dream I drew you in
I cleared your playlist but I still can’t sing
without wanting to weep for you.
I carried and cursed you and just like they said
you made me threefold in return
my endless regret that I made and gave everything
to a masquerade pearl
as mad as I was powerless in the web.
(it’s true that sometimes I smell him, milk and powder, but
you have to hear him crying for ever –
my guilt may be misguided but misuse has left fault-lines on my mind.
in the quiet of my rubbed-rosemary, twenty-twelve, rue-aching,
pretending to clean but intending to punish,
I salt my own wounds in your memory.)