To the one I never said goodbye

When the love-fairy's

withdrawn to her nest,

and the invisible musician

finally stopped strumming

his romantic guitar strings,

will you still come

looking for me,

drenched in those

now-almost-forgotten

poetic drizzles

to dance together

to the melody of

silence? 

Though you may descry

war-pigs thrashing butterflies

with dogs clapping by,

as fallen petals

clot city gutters,

look close

into the Stygian mirror

and you'll find

me on the other side of darkness,

washed in moonlight,

waiting under the starry silver-blues

with a thousand bullet-holes

in my still-breathing heart -

yet holding onto

the cartridge

you fired last.

And with your needle-sharp gaze

you'll see

coke choking my veins

but me

still bleeding love.

I am that thirsty poet

ploughing the mundane,

singing for the princesses of pretense,

digging his own grave.