Drunk Poem by A Waltz For Zizi

I've been sailing
in a bottle of wine,
drunken
on the poems of
others
to that place
where the sheets
always fold around you
like wings,
and the sirens
always pour
the ocean into your eyes
and the kisses
and everything
that reaches your hand
grow roots there
and
into your heart.


A lot has happened
since
you broke my heart:
I found
that your steps
were leading me
into hell,
and that alone
I dug my grave
in the left side of your chest.
When it snowed
I made wings on the ground
for you,
and now
everyone wonders
why I died for you
but really
I died for my dreams.