One afternoon, sitting inside a cafe barefooted


to Faye

lover of my lover: sorrow in her eyes;

drinking her tea, drowning herself

in the hope of the miracle of forgetting

in a slow afternoon when all of us

longed for love with unspoken helplessness

— her sorrow cannot be mine and mine be hers;

loving the same woman with great agony and quiet bellows

from the open wounds of the past that burns the soul

we are ravaged. beautifully ravaged

of longing for a woman who will never be ours

sitting beside me, holding my hand almost pleading

may the gods kiss away the sorrow in your beautiful eyes

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