Deliberation
I did it deliberately
Planned every hurt
I knew when the knife would drop
no
I knew when I’d stab you
through the heart.
I thought it through
and did not care
enough
and now
when I see what I did
and hear the results
I do not own enough
of the guilt.
And it’s all over now…
I saw you and you saw me
we couldn’t help but look
and now it’s over and
they aren’t gone
this isn’t by the book
don’t get me wrong
thank god we’ve stopped
I don’t think I could take
another cheat
another steal
another patch of grey
but this isn’t by the book
this isn’t what they say
over is
over and over I’ve said now it’s over
and it really never has been
I saw you and you saw me
we couldn’t help but look
and still we’re looking
there is no line
and that was why I cried
the feeling that there would have to be
one with you on the other side
but no line to cross
no ditch to swim
there’s no end in sight
over and over it’s never been over
with you for all time
I see you and you see me
Can’t help but look.
Protected: It’s Not Fair!
Permalink Enter your password to view comments.
Oh to speak with you –
but there is never the time
to discover a mutual language
instead we construct
entirely separate
shining marble buildings
that slide around
each other directed by our tongues.
Jealousy’s cold and has green blank eyes,
they have that look of death
which you favoured me with
I discovered that a little grey ash
poured from my mouth…
…there’s no asking you to come and play
you wouldn’t understand
read your books then
in the quiet room
and lock the window
lest we come in
laughter in the sunlight
the scent of summer grass
there are ashes in my mouth
they drag me back
to that quiet room, filled with books,
I can see you looking through the window
eyes in the darkness then
she puts a finger to her lips
and promises secrecy
the words from the room and my own
do not mesh
they crash off each other in the air
…theres no asking you to come and play
you wouldn’t understand.
The Quiet Man
Upstairs in a quiet study, we had a beer,
and talked of modern times,
and smiled and laughed
with kisses from long ago between us.
And now I listen to songs that would mean
nothing to you, they were never yours,
but a thousand someone elses.
Have a beer, that’s the deal isn’t it?
I deal for keeps,I deal forever,
When you agreed to keep my rules for that length of time
My heart assured I’d never get over you
and you can be certain of the love in me
forever.
Have a beer, years after we said never,
and I will love you just as I did then,
and smile and talk and offer the same kisses
quietly, in the back of your mind.
I didn’t understand until I saw it out clear for me
in full technicolour video
and you’re still staring at me.
Hide away, hide away still, it’s your notion of sin
not my problem but how I wish it was
I didn’t know, never understood
until I saw it out clear
and you’ll never hide away from me
I’ve heard all that there was to hear.
So hide it away from the rest of the world then
don’t think that I’ll pretend not to know.
What Is It Sylvie?
“But oh, Sylvie, what makes the sky such a darling blue?”
Sylvie’s sweet lips shaped themselves to reply, but her voice sounded faint and very far away. The vision was fast slipping from my eager gaze: but it seemed to me, in that last bewildering moment, that not Sylvie but an angel was looking out through those trustful brown eyes, and that not Sylvie’s but an angel’s voice was whispering
“It is Love.” – Sylvie and Bruno, Lewis Carroll
I write love poems it is true
Whether I chose red or I chose blue
I know where it is that my heart lies
and I know what it is the causes my pen to write
and I know that
I will write a love poem to my best friend
that another could only share
with her life partner
because the sky is such a darling blue
and everything I feel
I feel for you.
Still this English language
only allows
for there to be one you.
Even in the Greek there are only four
ways
to love
How can you ask me to
strip a philia from my eros
or storgé my
sick fascination with stockholm syndrome
when my tongue is tracing agape’s lips?
I will write you love poems
when I barely know you
do not think that I do not know my own heart
and do not think that I am spread so thin
I cannot mean it.
I chose
Red from Blue,
always.
Watching you, stretched out on the sofa,
I am suddenly aware
I am going to watch you age, mature, grow old,
– I am returned to a tabletop
where I won the hand and lost the game
and I am astounded by the solid gold
of you on a sofa
growing old, older and older still
This business of living then
is ours.
luvlymish
Mish's Quick Kisses 