2011-08-21
- 9:09 p.m. I would write you a poem, one that you would read on a cold night curled up in that oversized comforter one you would fine thumbing through a magazine given to you carelessly by a friend. I would write you this poem and in it I would speak of something little, of a sea gull or cold plums or the rain and in the words you would see me though we haven't met and then you would forget it. The next morning, stretching, showering, a line would come through your head, how the leaves felt beneath our feet or the way the ocean carries secrets or how the fingers on ivory are your eulogy and you would see me, again though we haven't met and would know that those words were written for you. I would write you a poem and through this distance I would find you and you would find me until, as the days go on the nights in your comforter oversized so you could cocoon deep into end we would draw together, closer slowly, until you could ask me and I would say I would write you a poem previous - next |