dark and darker:“my old friend”
another crack’d faint appearing, in the destruction of us,
this one of the unconscious variety, added to the angle of
my leaning tower
how we used to compete in a morning ritual of who loves
the other more, a morning game as I departed, employing
terms of trillions, googolplex, infinity and ridiculous measures
such as the Big Bang; the game now over a year or more,
the text messages just another long forgot: and I no longer
write love poems in buses and taxis
the cracks lengthen and laugh; a mocking screech of me
and my capabilities of denying, refusing ‘that’ conversation,
one day the noise will make my hands gone from eye coverings of see-no-evil to hearing it too loud, too clarity clear
but then she slips up and wishe me a goodbye, calling me out
“my old friend”
incision unconscious
for she cannot recollect it
two days later
but I can
it is a huge cut upon my chest
where open heart surgery is
currently underway
my ny heart is a transplant candidate
its replacement, a hardy artificial utility that has no capability
to ferry love beyond mine own borders
she only cut my hair but did not stop there
and reminds me again of:
the pain dance of wreck and ruin, destruction and death
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1518614/f-f-1stmost/
Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 11:55 AM UTC
dark and darker:“my old friend”
another crack’d faint appearing, in the destruction of us,
this one of the unconscious variety, added to the angle of
my leaning tower
how we used to compete in a morning ritual of who loves
the other more, a morning game as I departed, employing
terms of trillions, googolplex, infinity and ridiculous measures
such as the Big Bang; the game now over a year or more,
the text messages just another long forgot: and I no longer
write love poems in buses and taxis
the cracks lengthen and laugh; a mocking screech of me
and my capabilities of denying, refusing ‘that’ conversation,
one day the noise will make my hands gone from eye coverings of see-no-evil to hearing it too loud, too clarity clear
but then she slips up and wishe me a goodbye, calling me out
“my old friend”
incision unconscious
for she cannot recollect it
two days later
but I can
it is a huge cut upon my chest
where open heart surgery is
currently underway
my ny heart is a transplant candidate
its replacement, a hardy artificial utility that has no capability
to ferry love beyond mine own borders
she only cut my hair but did not stop there
and reminds me again of:
the pain dance of wreck and ruin, destruction and death
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1518614/f-f-1stmost/
