deepundergroundpoetry.com
All Now is Light and Air
At one point there was no such thing as love,
much like politics’ sensible centre.
But I still hear your voice
when trees sway in the wind.
Sweeter than an Oreo,
supple as a teenager’s imaginings
of soft thighs,
or merely otherwise.
We’ve lived through the deaths
that abound throughout life.
We’ve played Scrabble game
after Scrabble game,
fingers interlocking.
I still see you finding
those words, and grinning,
outlandishly proud.
I still recall our touch.
But now much has become blank
as the diary I decided
to write last January
(long after you’d left,
shortly after we’d all gone mad),
as faded as late dusk.
Now much is gone,
whether your laugh, your voice,
your love of donuts, and
my heart writhes with ghosts,
even as the velvet sky
bleeds memory.
much like politics’ sensible centre.
But I still hear your voice
when trees sway in the wind.
Sweeter than an Oreo,
supple as a teenager’s imaginings
of soft thighs,
or merely otherwise.
We’ve lived through the deaths
that abound throughout life.
We’ve played Scrabble game
after Scrabble game,
fingers interlocking.
I still see you finding
those words, and grinning,
outlandishly proud.
I still recall our touch.
But now much has become blank
as the diary I decided
to write last January
(long after you’d left,
shortly after we’d all gone mad),
as faded as late dusk.
Now much is gone,
whether your laugh, your voice,
your love of donuts, and
my heart writhes with ghosts,
even as the velvet sky
bleeds memory.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 0
reading list entries 0
comments 0
reads 91
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.