What bitter truths am I made of?
What lessons have I not learnt?
What deceits lie unfulfilled?
What part of me hasn’t yet burnt?
I have not wept every tear;
I know nothing of tomorrow;
I keep meeting handsome strangers,
Hoping for lesser sorrow.
What terror lies in wait?
Have I spent all my shame?
What wounds must I yet bear
To continue this horrid game?
Questions like these are dull;
Answers for these seem lost…
I guess, if they are ever found,
I’d have well borne their cost…
I’ve kissed a thousand lips,
Rough as rocks, delicate as dew;
I’ve been drunk on a thousand sips,
Though none really tasted like you.
I’ve opened my mouth to each;
I’ve felt the passion in throes;
But something’s always out of reach –
Something only a heart knows.
I’ve taken essence, moist and dry;
But nothing remained for me to keep;
And, no matter how hard I try,
Though I keep sowing, I cannot reap.
Death comes to me in dreams:
The dead float like dandelions:
Shimmery and wistful it all seems,
While sleep binds me in irons.
The dark haunts me with forgotten smiles;
It whispers the future in my ear;
And all the past vainly beguiles,
For within it, there isn’t a single tear.
New dreams are dreadful and bright!
I can remember not even one!
In vain, I try to make love to night,
Under the eye of an unforgiving sun.
Hearts Still Care 
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