morphine

there is some strange attraction between our pains, a gravitation of fractures, a resonance of dissonance. your voices sing to me from the corner of every eye- asking for that sweet, listening devotion which i have had such trouble mustering. something was in the corner of my own eye, you see. but there is something beautiful to each voice and the whole and i can no longer help but listen. it wakes me up at night (my own voice there among many) and i feel wonder at this hymnal aloneness. and there is some deep attraction between our pains- some deep attraction that keeps us separate and turns our gaze into a searchlight scanning the dark horizon for the red cross. when the corpsman comes, panting with effort, and places morphine in the deep wounds of desire- when he comes by an effort of the eye and the heart- some deep magic works and where one answered, now are two. this is what i want, dear friend. see my scars? they match the pink curve of your own humanity. let's sit up all night, sipping tea and holding hands. why not escape the attraction of our pains and give each other what we all really want most.