Tidal Wave 
 
There is no ocean of love
no tidal wave to wash clean the stain
it is over, finished
the dead eyes captured on film
and the wondrous heart pumps
a new kind of stain
 
There is no comforting voice
even the softest hue now turns to brown
like tobacco on porcelain
you cannot give in to the temptation
you wish in the dark there were something
to give in to
 
No billowing school of dancing fish
the pirouette slows and the turn exquisite
creaking like some memory
once had, when the flesh craved flesh
before the pounding of the anvil
crushed all movement from it
 
There is no love, no penetration
save the realization that pierces humbly
it says, give in to me
and you do, tired of the game, no longer limber
in doing so you free a new kind of beast
and you run from love, never looking back