Wednesday, October 6, 2010

burnt pages

i put classical music on the record
player to make me smarter,
and books in my bed when
i sleep, too. polaroids fall out
of jacket sleeves, remind me
of the past; and of the future
too. no more caffeine and no
more whiskey. just tea and
wine and conversations over
jazz. walking around in dark
stockings on the carpet and
hoping the telephone will ring
hoping for good news from
somewhere. orange poppies and
pink dahlias and landscapes,
borders and treelines. dried
bouquets and photos that didn't
turn out, growing my hair out.
long sleeves and lawn leaves
and bed lamp and my bed with
books under the covers keeping
me company. burnt pages and
ages of dreams and memories
bleeding and seeming to know
something i don't. looking forward
and back and always the past,
kissing his butterfly eyes and the
hair on his neck and always the
australian bracelet keeping me close
to him rests on my wrist and says
its okay, i love you.

1 comment:

Lace.and.Likes. said...

this is beautiful

you are so loved missy