Songs For Midnight

 Note: Please listen to ‘Where Do I Go From Here?9’ by A Year On Earth while reading this poem. 

We are such beautiful, deathless things. To live for seeing the stars, to smile at the child who says ‘Look  at the moon tonight! She is looking so pretty!’ 

To roam the streets while obscure sirens fill our ears with the melancholy of human melodies. They sing  of things soft and shiver-wracking, of feelings we push down at lunches and dinners,  

of voices so silent, that they are the only ones who write and speak of such things.  

We sing along in the night, in empty apartments, deserted hallways, ballrooms, gardens, curling and  twisting fingers around the rose-coloured dew petals that you see at dawn. Or sitting in front of a screen,  tears drowning words and love so deep that they have to be reeled in to the light by the rising climax and  the crescendo that so beautiful.  

I don’t need a minute, don’t need an hour. Listen to the ivories’ chorus in the back, behind the screen.  I don’t need more time, I need you now.  

Wave your hands, conduct the orchestra zephyrs that fill your limbs and leave through the tips of your  fingers. The four walls are witnesses to the breath-taking massacre you are: of ideas of yourself, of things  you used to be, things you learnt were not right, stuff you figured out nobody liked. You are a beautiful  massacre my darling, and its ok. It’s ok to mourn past lives and past bodies, past selves. Don’t look off  into the distance every time you feel you need a hug. Your love won’t be there, and it will be ok.  

We are such beautiful, deathless things. To live entire lifetimes, to turn dust or mulch in the rotting earth,  but never truly death does lay claim. Our bones crack and split as flowers pierce our skulls and look, we  live.  

We are everything that has been and everything that will be. If dust and darkness loved and made you,  who are you to deny? Refuse what has always been yours, my darling please. You are trapped in this  mirror and this world, these bleeding tongues that you surround yourself with only keep you from me.  This is my salvation, to shatter and let death consume what was not loved.  

You are loved, and we are deathless beauties, holding our embraces in the drunken bedsheets muttering  and giving and taking words. 

I love you I love you I’m afraid of hurting you you won’t hurt me. It’s ok, It’s ok. 

I am such a deathful, dreaded thing. Rotting corpses litter my courtyard and they lay there still. My  massacre has ended, and decay shall return to this house. Love, my darling fool, and leave me behind. A  dying massacre is worth no love. No love to give, to give, to give. I see your letters on my dreaming  grave, and wake to empty sheaths.  

We are such beautiful, deathless things.  

9 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-j24xyySFkY

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