Molten Sculptures.

Every night is another separation
In the lovers' world.

Each opens the same door
and move as laden clouds
into separate worlds.
Memories freeze purple
in their earthly veins; rainy dreams
soak unslept nights into;

Sculptures of being;
Sculptures of leaving.

Every morning as they wake up,
Inside every lover there's a
Velvety casket
One buried deep within the sinews,

In another earth.

One from which someone
Always screams
"I loved you, I loved you"

And thus it is, with every night
and every day.
The lover exists but in the twilight.


Art : sculpture by Andrew Rogers; Many Lives.