Your memory does not belong to the name nor to the second I breath It moves not the howling word of pain not the darkest desire in me I sigh without knowing that this pain is the name
You should know these things: first, that love is not enough, two, that the moon is simply a rock. Because you go through life as an unwilling ghost, unseen in the subway,
Just before nightfall I think of you of your plum chapstick lips of your almond hazel eyes of the warm spot beneath your neck of the curvy nature of your hips I think of you