when love's words have soured in the chambers of the chest, will I finally sleep? when our bodies are taken far away, will I stop casting poems to this empty lake just to disturb a perfect mirror? maybe these embers will burn forever, giving no light, persisting on nothing but their own weightless mass, the breath of some lover in the dream of a dream. when i go i hope the small searching shapes of my heart are gathered from every cold corner of the world where we met.