Sisters of nightshade
I blue and quake in this rhythm
of sorrow, and lose loneliness
with you, my verse-vowed one.
The things our voices promised
from hearts of earnest, hearts
of wishful thinking, tremble
apart and from the regretful
remembrances of things we
should not have done and said
come the ends of us.
Our azure promises like rainbow
riches begin to elude us both,
those sentiments of permanence
born on unstable ground, unstable
upbringings; becoming sallow
as goat liver, as acrid as our
vows when we said to each
other we would cleave always.
When you were in love with me
you lied to both of our romances.
When you came to me with old
doubt on your tongue you told
the truth of these experiments.
We both have failed our search
for reassurance, our growings-
up with each other. My kidney
devastated from poisons of
kind misleadings is finally
giving out in the truth of you.
Perhaps I need a painful switch,
a transplant into knowing our
realities of lonesomeness.
Without the passions and bile
held tight within the sphere
of heartfulness in your life,
this parasitic vine of mine
has no garden to grow long in.
I shall let it wither and grow
instead tangy red tomatoes,
sisters of nightshade,
apples of romance,
poisonous fruit.