She is beautiful
Her husband is a great guy.
She has his children
They look so much like him.
I have this tiny space
of time with her.
A few laps of the pool.
She is not mine
And never will be.
Her warmth
is still in my bed.
Her smile still
glowing in my heart.
But I am a thief
I have stolen her
Even for a few hours .
My heart is a playroom
full of false promises.
Of lies that even
I cannot believe.
When she leaves
I will catch
the silence of my room.
And write a love poem
That I can never give to her.
I shall not grieve her loss
Even with the invisible dagger
that is plunged in my chest.
Because she never really
was to be mine
Aug 26, 2015
Aug 26, 2015 at 2:48 PM UTC
She is beautiful
Her husband is a great guy.
She has his children
They look so much like him.
I have this tiny space
of time with her.
A few laps of the pool.
She is not mine
And never will be.
Her warmth
is still in my bed.
Her smile still
glowing in my heart.
But I am a thief
I have stolen her
Even for a few hours .
My heart is a playroom
full of false promises.
Of lies that even
I cannot believe.
When she leaves
I will catch
the silence of my room.
And write a love poem
That I can never give to her.
I shall not grieve her loss
Even with the invisible dagger
that is plunged in my chest.
Because she never really
was to be mine