...you crawl your knees off before you shake my tomb.
No one would have believed it. No one would have grasped that he were capable. The words 'love' and 'Entropy' do not belong together, do they?
These are not rhyming words, working words, words from a mouth in a face of a constantly smiling skull.
He knows how to say these words.
He says them late when she sleeps, tongues drizzling into a resting ear.
He says them when it's early, when she is still waking: he likes her best when she is silent, as if she were distant, a Pablo Neruda poem he'd put together.
He says them when she is in his gardens, a small girl-child, amongst the daffodils planted, the way the sky opens above glass.
He says them when she is gone: when his vast manse is empty, when he is alone. When he is taking it slow, the way she creeps across his soul.
But no one would believe him.
At times, he thinks, not even her.
Thhx 
