impassioned responses are…highly discouraged.
x x x x
1.
perhaps i miss
your voice;
so soothing,
almost feathery;
dark feathers and
the blue edge of a
quiet twilit night,
but your voice is all sadness
nothing living
your voice is the voice of the dying,
so loosly bound.
2.
i was so happy to love myself again
when you were gone
in every sense of the word (!)
and now i have the unbridled
freedom of an unbridled
horse,
coat smooth and shiny sheen
and they all ask me where you’ve been
and i just smile and preen:
these things happen.
3.
twilight, how could i see thee
how could i find the way back to my home
when you never lit your own lamp for me?
4.
(this is my dream:)
i am with myself and new father
and the fog makes me awake
and i am so warm and safe
and i say
i did wait
5.
i don’t know much about
the voice that sits like an even tempered rod
off-white yellow, tightly wound.
(he gave me a good shake up)
and i’m pretty sure
this voice
won’t be the right choice
and we will simply
split our differences;
two terribly frank kisses
and call it a week.
i pass the people in the parlour
thinking is it
too futile to even speak?
Copyright 2016 Golden Star Poetry
Golden Star Poetry 