the gods xxi by Donald Kuspit
forgotten at last,
you are fuller than you ever were
in the embrace
of my innocence,
when there was no need
for words,
only unalloyed wonder.
now doubt has dramatized
your presence,
suddenly poignant with regret,
and archaic emptiness.
i toy with the thought of you,
intemperately aware
of your unawareness
of death,
even as you breathe it in with every silence.
breathe me in,
that we become ghosts
of each other,
complete ourselves
with the other’s
incompleteness.
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