Mausoleum

Was I leaning upon your chest,
Like a tonsured-devil? You made points of itch across
My skin, once so young when we first met,
A skin we ‘d both explored in your sister’s loft.
I breathed you in to drown my thirst,
As a jogger breathes success, huge bowls of air
That bring life, clouds and emptiness,
To lonely lonely lungs.
Pouring the scent of death ( … that sweet scent

That some mistake for roses)
And killing brain cells! Nor in the breathing you
Did I breathe enough to keep you

My eyes pour out your sight!
Till soon I’m blind again.
Dreams on a bench
Your chest can heave once more.