Love me as much as a juggler loves to cycle on the thin thread

Set the fire billowing at dusty dusk

as you tentatively pedal, each ride

No, thrills have become routine,

but as an occupation you do not part

I love you the way Shanghai lights from head to toes at dusk. 

But your passion only flashed,

signaling the closing metro doors of your heart. 

Windy at the platform,

my hair dancing wildly in your drowsy eyes,

my heart a drained, thirsty flask.

Now only the dawn I long for,

when the threads will part, linger, cut broken

Your back to the glaze: your last gaze,

blood at my heart smashing against dead chambers,

never deafen