we do not speak of love
but all are pushed & pulled
by it

taking all forms & shapes
twisted pounded burnt
by it

like the sculptor’s clay our faces
punched & pinched
made long or ripped apart
by it

eyes pained or deep or lost
lines cut in checks & forehead
from it

we do not speak of love
our faces scream
of it

haunting bars &
running wild in the streets
for it

we do not speak of love
but spike warm veins pop pills
burst brain with alcohol
for it

gods & demons wrestle for the heart
of it

I can’t survive the lack
of it