The sweetness of your demeanour
drops
off
the intellect of your lips
hangs
on
the balance
of a kiss

And then
the disposition
the correctness
of your ways
lies
with me
an idea
never fulfilled

For what is observed
never
beyond
the white
filled with black squiggles...

And here somewhere
I lay
despondent
forgotten
the man of loss
the lost
upon a green grass
a sunny day
I lay

Await
for that
that does not come
nor is invited
beyond what chooses
beyond the will

I see you
I see me
but still
nothing but white and
black squiggles

I dream