Innocence

'Dumb regrets;
red-glowing
the flames from you envelop me, even as
borne on from care to care, I near the sill
of sleep.'
-Umberto Saba, Ashes.

When I was a
pink fleshed baby.
I was speechless,
unable to hurt you.
My words were
light, bright-
unattached to life.
Alone they could
do no harm.

Only as poems
addressed to you,
do they cause injury.
As you try to read
hidden meanings between
the lines, although
there are none.
Everything I write
in black and white.
Is printed proof in
front of your eyes.
Undeniable.

If there was any place
which you could forget.
The broken pulsations
of your heart and discard
the sorrow from your eyes,
whilst you read.
You'd shrink into that
aimless embryo of a man,
lie once again in the
womb of your mother.
And forget that I ever
existed.