Dead Language

You, a gentle rain on the street

Dazzling light, speeding taxis

I need to breathe what you quit

I’m waiting for the door to come crashing

See you standing there

Perfect curves, swerving like a steering wheel

Got drunk to forget 
The places we would meet and trick ourselves

Into breathing, into believing

At last, this will work

I have tricks to make it work

Instead let’s stare at distance

Cheating patience, clouding distaste for distrust

I mustn’t, I must

Who cares about what I was

I am now a better wall

Dreaming of you in positions

That may not be open

 I have you where I want you

Even if I barely caught your name