7 May 2012
A poem now, you
Walk through.
The door, red like a
Ripe cherry, or a new tube
Of her favourite lipstick.
Seems unnatural,
Like the eyes of that
One girl you saw downtown.
Blue, but still brown
Like the dirty ocean
At night.
The ocean?
What ocean.
The ocean of tides rising
Over, seeming to envelop
You like a letter.
That letter to her you
Never sent in
Fear of being
Something less than you wanted.
She wanted you
To love her.
To hold her like a clock
Holds my plans.
Plans, to make
To break
To steal away in the
Night like a star fallen.
A barrage of them,
Falling falling from above
Like heavenly tears.
You wait
For them to subside to
Go back.
Go back.
To your imaginary world of realty
But never again
Will you.
Buy her that cherry.
Or lipstick.
Or give out the ocean
Like a
Curtain call, rising
Rising up
To meet the day.
Poem 16. • Opuss № I