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here comes the low tide
you’re nowhere in sight
— your kisses and your sighs
agony in your green eyes

i’d rather be happy than have poetry
to never be hurt, to never blame you
to steal your breath for an eternity
to hell with dreams that do not come true

i’m not prepared for your freedom
you’re not equipped with my ransom
the water keeps leaving the pier
still i’m drowning in my old fear

big hands on my waist were never enough
what is this illness i keep calling love
to paris’ rain my heart will return
where your shadows can’t leave me alone

d.o.
london, 20 may 2026