I Will Not Make The Blue Isle Poem by L.B. Temuco

I love you
but its not enough
to write or read now, or
to listen to the rumours of mirrors
or race with your breath
at the sound of soft feet
sadness has replaced wonder
so soon
if it is the same it cannot be
I am so wounded now, my dear
I fly with one wing folded
across my bleeding breast
Once beloved, now
my heart bleeds over the ocean
soaking into the scarlet eyes of fish
I will not make the blue isle
my heart too, you have emptied
of the meaning of small things
I feel the water touching now
the tips of my wings
like a flame being killed
but never love