It is best to meet in a cul-de-sac, A palace of velvet With windows of mirrors. There one is safe, There are no family photographs, No rings through the nose, no cries.

It is so much safer not to feel, not to let the world touch me.

I laid my face to the smooth face of the marble and howled my loss into the cold salt rain.

Let me not be weak and tell others how bleeding I am internally; how day by day it drips, and gathers, and congeals.

I must get my soul back from you; I am killing my flesh without it.

Kiss me and you will see how important I am.

I think I am worthwhile just because I have optical nerves and can try to put down what they perceive. What a fool!