Of Private Places

I know of love in private places
away from social gazes
away from art’s graces
where desire coils and
longing traces the contours of sadness
below bleeding eyelashes.

I know of loves in private places,
away from social gazes, art’s graces
where flashes of memory are enough,
and a gutter of kisses the only stuff
below the cup-curve of gentle cheeks.

In the end,
I know only so:

A knife-tear of hushed-up love
...heals
slower than...
curt cuts by your
severe sounds
echoing
....oing
...ing
in the middle of
my dark night.