his book of poetry

there was a book of poetry once

written only for me

by my soul mate

and he said look into my soul

for ten minutes

absorb every word as a kiss

every sentence as a thrust.

my heart ached so much

i threw up,

my tears ate up my pain

and I thought he conjured

up Keats and the romantics

like he always does

and gave me their memory

as a gift,

circa 1890.

Chapters progressed like

Pablo and Mathilda

my love erupted

and soaked my soul

with bliss. Lost continents

were found

upon our love.

years meant nothing

i may have never seen him

(almost once)

fate denied it,

he didn’t know about me

when he thought he did.

so i wrote a book

while he searched,

we missed each other by hours.

but his poetry

killed me

it struck my heart

and ripped it into

vines in a forest.

his love

and my name

on his lips

is tragic.

yet the most

beautiful world

we never discovered.

Advertisements

21 thoughts on “his book of poetry

What do you think?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s