Cherry

“Why would I do that?”

“I wish…”

“Tell me on a winter afternoon.”

“Why is that?”

Your company is as unnatural in my presence as the sun shining through an abandoned alley,

I seek solace in phantoms of you and I on late night walks under street lamps,

The sun is now setting on this cold park bench, empty and lonely,

The sound of spring rain through my window,

Is softer than your voice under my fingertips.

The space beside me is empty and devoid,

Of your shadow and reverberating laughter.

Your coffee cup is absent,

To make the impression that

You still have words to say to me.

If I don’t read your farewells,

Only you were aware that my hands were afraid to cut,

These fingers you taught me to unclench and drop the weapon that weighed so heavy,

Know that I will pull the chain, and I

Will run to you,

Through the crowded platform,

The sun belongs to me, and me alone.

The sun’s rays in a quiet winter’s glee,

A poet’s fingers grasping at the pages,

A muse’s warm smile timid in the wind,

Your cold hands seek warmth in the steam,

A coffee cup snuggling in your palms,

Written there are the songs in your sleep,

Your perfume’s etched into my arms,

Aging as sincerely as wine,

Not as fluently as my mother.

Her eyes glisten with tears,

And her heart shatters quietly,

In helplessness and fear,

Is cruelty in every soul’s blood,

I awoke to the sound of voices,

Reprimanding my existence,

How cruel it is out here…

I dreamt of being kissed,

Softly over the veins in my wrist,

How sweet it is to sleep…

The contrast of a sweet love,

And my heart being broken,

It would break a pen’s nib,

Create a little pond of ink over the paper’s body,

A reflection of darkness in its depth,

No light would pierce the dried up black hole,

Spreading a little more each glance you steal at it,

At least…that’s what they tell me.

You make it tough and tougher…

To not believe them.

Am I too good for you?

That you like it when I’m unkind…is it so?

You tell me now what I wish to hear,

And then you ask me if I can send you cash…

You are hungry, and I am the mother who feeds you.

Oh darling, am I to despise you?

You say it is only my love you are after,

And then you forget to return what I lent you.