the days yield nothing but useless
leading me down the garden path
in a circle
in which centred the fial answer
lies/ reflecting like a devil’s eye.
the days of nearness to each other
have driven a wedge of indifference
that belies our passion
that has made us to believe in the
failure of human relations
that always centres around passions
like the circling path of longing
that reflects a central blue-green
this day is marred by failure
even the messenger of love breaks
as comm’s slip from his weakening
fingers/ the poet swears
all’s just a blank page and
a dark screen.
let’s do it tomorrow/ we say in unison
and hope has won
for we are soulmates of the first degree.
‘see you in bed’/ she says
and i agree with my other half of eros.