Light leaks
like water
dripping from the faucet

You called me baby
before you really knew me
and stopped calling
at all, afterwards

Drip…
Drip…
Nothing.

Light lingers
in quite corners
like memories that refuse to flicker,
not acknowledging
that the night
has fallen.

We pour over each other
like liquid
on a perched desert,
sucking sustenance from substance,
leaching life
from any length

Dryer…
Dryer…
Death.

I dived deep down
to the bottom
and found only a drought
drowning on the ocean floor.

Were you the desert
or the drought?

Was I the ocean
or merely drowning?

Bubble…
Bubble…
Nothing.

Light lifts
the illusions
we sleep upon
beneath the darkness,
when everything is possible
and no one ever parts.

i am not one part us,
i am not one part you,
i am not one or the other,
I am the I that was your baby.

Remember?

I was light, you said
in the midst of so much weight
but you remained
light on love
regardless.

Light leaks
like dripping water from a faucet

Drip…
Drip…

onto the broken plates
and half eaten hopes
that cannot be either
washed or erased.

Light
is too light
to lift the stains
from the remains
of what began with the words

I want to drown in your eyes…

Light frequently floods
the flaccid lies we feed ourselves
just so we can get from day to night.

All Words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly