Hangover

Hangover


I feel anguish 
when breathing the smell 
of dead sex. The hangover 
of satisfied furtive pleasure 
arrives, I put away 
an unshakeable silence 
when I close my eyes.
The skeleton of my last kiss 
rests on your left thigh.
I set out to smoke on your lap
while I think about my short life.
Is there anything more important than this?
Beyond the dark glass of my window
birds sleep on an old tree.
They'll never know of your existence
under this white concrete sky,
my lovers’ firmament. Insects 
fight to the death in the mystical light 
of my lamp. What beauty! 
There is nothing more ephemeral 
than love, pierced by sex.