Sunday, November 17, 2013

You were my world



You have gone and I miss you

I walk out of the bar befuddled

With grief and whiskey

My breath could ignite

If only I could find a match

Once you were my match

I stumble into the murky darkness

And in that dark I think of you

My fingers running through your silky hair

My fingers tracing over your face

Touching your cute nose and sweet lips

Lips that mouthed such invective

With words that told me who I was

And how you couldn’t live with me

Any more

You wanted

No more

Pain

We wouldn’t dance any more

In the rain

Hand in hand

Skipping through the puddles

Racing to the tram

Sitting cosy by the fire

Eating marshmallows

Little you, lanky me

Cuddled up

Isolated in our nest

Until you found me out

And cut me out

With the razor of your words

Out of your world forever

And you were my world

12 comments:

  1. Aw. This is so sweet and sour. I liked the breath bit... with the match, and how you repeated the word match in a different context.. very good. :)

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  2. I like the flow of this...it almost makes it not so sad

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  3. What could have been so bad if someone would dance in the rain with you and sit cosy by the fire eating marshmallows? I hope there is a second chance down the road!

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  4. I like the "little you, lanky me" line but am curious about what she found out,

    Elizabeth

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  5. My goodness. Another romance gone bad. Too bad. Your a good poet.

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  6. Your idea of fun and your use of words all are so fantastic, I can't imagine there's anything bad to find out about you!

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  7. I really like the last few lines - a powerful ending.

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  8. Such pain and sadness you have shared here. I hope it was not you.

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  9. 'found you out' leaves one to wonder what caused the rift...
    Though sometimes faults can be fabricated.
    Emotions are dark when there is a split...

    Thank you for visiting my Story Whirl. :) ~Jules

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  10. It has such beautiful flow...

    Here is my Sunday Swirl post:
    bridging the past with the future

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  11. I agree this is poignant, Old Egg. It does flow beautifully. So sorry for the late visit.

    Pamela

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