Night drives remind me of you.How you said you would get a car when you were 16.Wind in the leaves of trees make me think of you.How you said you liked soft noises.Rain makes me remember you.How you said you hated the smell of rain because it was only earthworms surfacing.Fire reminds me of you.Your lit blunt and the love of candles we shared.Piano music makes me think of you.How you said when we moved in together you'd let me practice with your sheet music.Early mornings make me remember you.How you'd procrastinate and wrote essays at 2am.How you hummed me to sleep.Tiny plants remind me of you.How you thought is was cute when I said "cactuses".
We sat on the porch,Avoiding the snow.My legs were on either side of your body.I whispered in your ear.Ridiculous anecdotes not appropriate for the clumsy elegance of the situation.We kissed then.Your lips soft,Pink,On mine.It was cold,The sky gray.But we were warm,Our cheeks red.Our hoods were pulled up around our heads.Me,looking like the grim reaper.
Jolt of market-carts ;Steady drip of horses' hoofs on hard pavement ;A black sky lacquered over with blueness,And the lights of Battersea BridgePricking pale in the dawn.The beautiful hours are passingAnd still you sleep !Tired heart of my joy.Incurved upon your dreams.Will the day come before you have opened to me ?
One Life of so much Consequence!Yet I -- for it -- would pay --My Soul's entire income --In ceaseless -- salary --One Pearl -- to me -- so signal --That I would instant dive --Although -- I knew -- to take it --Would cost me -- just a life!The Sea is full -- I know it!That -- does not blur my Gem!It burns -- distinct from all the row --Intact -- in Diadem!The life is thick -- I know it!Yet -- not so dense a crowd --But Monarchs -- are perceptible --Far down the dustiest Road!
Come, my Celia, let us proveWhile we may the sports of love;Time will not be ours forever,He at length our good will sever.Spend not then his gifts in vain;Suns that set may rise again,But if once we lose this light,'Tis with us perpetual night.Why should we defer our joys?Fame and rumour are but toys.Cannot we delude the eyesOf a few poor household spies?Or his easier ears beguile,So removed by our wile?'Tis no sin love's fruits to steal;But the sweet theft to reveal,