Love will tear us apart.

Because I’m built that way.

Because of the walls that are built around

The moats, the chains, the bounding mortar

This brick, that stone, the coldness of my dead heart.

 

Love will tear us apart.

I hardly even know you

You don’t even know me

My words are repeated

I can duplicate my own poetry

I can listen to words that musicians sing

 

Love will tear us apart.

You don’t read my art

You don’t see my art.

You haven’t looked under my bed lately?

To see the dark portraits?

The mirror no longer reflects

Every day I puncture myself

With the taste of tears

And the taste of my pain

Of the dying on Park Terrace West

And the love in Arlington Graves

 

But you think I’d make a good C.E.O.

But you don’t think I’d be a beat

Or be the next, but I’ve met Rauschenberg

And I’ve met Glenn and I’ve met Ali

 

Love will tear us apart.

Because I don’t own you

And you’d only kill me if you were with me every day

Or you’d kill my only child

Son and daughter

Or yourself

Upon your lovely death bed

But I’ll hold your hand

Until you die

Or until we part.

 

 

 

© 2001 David Greg Harth

01.05.01:24:58:00@296NYC