screaming corpses,
screaming corpses like torches,
burning memories of you,
of the long buried desires,
coffin for me,
coffin of truth.

and then
paso-doble with the winter in us,
dancing till we disappear,
and then
there is no one to remember
the mad, mad love we forget.

we bomb the church,
the church of desperation,
with ignorance,
preferably throwing the remaining pieces,
the last scars,
in the ocean of white.

and then
i should be immune to spring,
resistant to you.
foolish!
failed!
untrue!