I held it truth, with him who sings

I held it truth, with him who sings

do you whisper with leaves
dead and whirling in wind?

i woke up this morning
and missed you although
you'd spent the night
tangled in my arms
like tree branches bare.

crystal teardrops sharp as knives
cut my face,
but will tomorrow be the same?
glass lodged
in my eye with no beauty to behold.
hatred
like a contact lense
that lets me see and makes me see.

and this morning makes
my glaciertears melt
leaves lakes of lusting
that sunrise will
mean a new day


The title of this poem comes from In Memoriam A.H.H. by Alfred Lord Tennyson.