Denied

I am a constellation in the shape
of a woman denied.
I am a woman in the shape
of a star circling high.

On the brink of explosion,
on the brink of a fall,
I am the tomb of desertion
and shadow of Gaul.

The paintings of tremor,
the voice of your pain;
I am a woman of oceans,
I am swallowed the same

by the water I trust
and the blue of the eyes;
the drowning I deal with
but not the disguise.

He says that he hides things
as all humans do,
but no one denies things
as my denial by you.