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l-jPoems
I don't quite remember that Pretty projection or dubious construction. The dream that kissed with tangible lips I cannot elicit A lazy shape of limbs Sprawled across threadbare blankets. Warm hearts and cold feet. Bookshops piled to the rafters; Places of whispered exchanges And smiling, arm through arm. I can't conjure up The taste and stain of cheap red wine, A tongue that laughed and sung To Louis Armstrong, on the radio. In cold Septembers And aching Decembers, Left to my reckless imagination... I wish that I couldn’t remember.
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Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 1:43 PM UTC
Seven
I don't quite remember that Pretty projection or dubious construction. The dream that kissed with tangible lips I cannot elicit A lazy shape of limbs Sprawled across threadbare blankets. Warm hearts and cold feet. Bookshops piled to the rafters; Places of whispered exchanges And smiling, arm through arm. I can't conjure up The taste and stain of cheap red wine, A tongue that laughed and sung To Louis Armstrong, on the radio. In cold Septembers And aching Decembers, Left to my reckless imagination... I wish that I couldn’t remember.
l-j
Written by
l-j
English
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 1:43 PM UTC
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