Immediate identities
You don’t tell me who I am,
well you could, you do actually,
but not for me.
On the discomforting disruption
The time of the tide is
not always the same.
Sitting in the glass palace
When a lover crowns you
the empress of his
dreams, as the queen
Craving for something from the past
I can hear the ache right
below my elbow, as I lay
my head in its support,
Your mentor, always
When I look at the sunrise
or at the wind creating its
colourless backdrop,
On the mortality of envy
If she stares with an eye
that shrinks with every step you take,