After the Last Coffee

i want to die

in sheets we’ve stained with

sex, sweat, dreams.

i could no sooner wash out

the dark scent of your hair,

all those nights lived side by side

as space blossomed above us

and the joy and sorrow laden future

hung like an unnamed fruit

ripening on a vine

made green by morning,

than i could kill you.

when i die,

burn the sheets,

burn the bed,

burn the body.

but let the memory

of me linger

between your legs,

within your love,

that place where dreams

open upon the present,

fresh eyes to an ancient ruin.

remember,

burn the sheets,

the bed,

the body.

i’ll wait for you.

don’t be afraid.

i’ll wait.