Like A Queen

I am a fool of good heart,
a creature of ambient lighting
hovering over torn floorboards;
only few have known me before,
yet I go by so many names.
Neighbor outside my door,
no better than I,
no longer can I hear your
light step
filling my slumber,
making me think you've come back.

Innocent flowers and incense
repeat and repeat,
"was there a word I could borrow for
love?"
Instead, they left,
wordless in a world of moving
tongues and teeth.
But your garden always made me smile,
reminding me of you every once
in a while.

I'm dotting my I's with breaths
and other residues,
so I won't forget
the day that we met:
our feet sticking to tree-sap
sidewalks,
plagiarized poets
looking for pages to write on.
Now white fog hides
your sharp blade eyes,
laden with a cadence of soft
petals in an even softer wind.

And, to me, you meant more
than any other knock
at the door,
and I bet I could trace
where your knuckles
used to knock before.
For when I am devoured
in an empty house
it is still famished;
and if we make no love within this bed
how then can Love's hunger be fed?

I didn't dream much, but
it was enough
to miss the image of you
sleeping beside me.
Back then, I remember how you ran,
embarrassed to look back
at the world, still as stone
each time you passed.
Tasting grief with your back teeth
from biting hard to hold on
to the past.

No better than a liar
can I be,
my language my song,
played out of key
for passing birds in branches
above me.
I am a fool, love, that is
plainly seen,
but you shouldn't need a king
to make you feel
like a queen.