Ariel: The Restored Edition

Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.

We should meet in another life, we should meet in air,

Me and you

Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables?

Is it for such I agitate my heart?

I am terrified by this dark thing

That sleeps in me;

All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.

I am inhabited by a cry.

Nightly it flaps out

Looking, with its hooks, for something to love

I have suffered the atrocity of sunsets

Love is a shadow.

How you lie and cry after it

Is it the sea you hear in me,

Its dissatisfactions?

Or the voice of nothing, that was your madness?

I dream of someone else entirely.

And he, for this subversion

Hurts me, he

With his armory of fakery

I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted

To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty