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i hadn’t failed till i watched your again
trembling at the hours of darkness window.

turning away to select up
the fallen comforter,

i sought after to mention, don’t have a look at me
like this—

backfiring with need
because the darkish became you sharp.

the ones days, mild a commodity to avoid wasting,
i saved having a look into the home windows

of darkish rooms to look at
you subsequent to me.

you, tidying your hair
within the mirrored image,

shiny towards the jumble
of development—
i held directly to you

out of the nook of my eye.
some sanctuary.

i sought after your chest beating
in my chest,

so i couldn’t have a look at you.
what mortality—

turning away at good looks
to keep

my go out.
and what worship—

to color you
with my again to you.

to look at your mirrored image
like a wound.

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