Crying

You cried
when the sun set
as the bus sped
past five o'clock
the distance of Paris
drawing closer.

I held you close as
the bus shuddered,
the roads grey and chalky
as a man held a sign which said 'Go'

It's black with me, you white queen
I cannot see beyond this glass
this wall of nothingless
I cannot move on.

But you cry, you say
crying cannot be turned on like a tap
it just flows into your heart, into my
eyes that want to cry with you
that want to mourn our death
in one sweep of flame.