29 August 2010


I am too weak and

you are too tempting, please

leave like a stormcloud.

Storm tossed reeds bounce back,

"you are strong, independent,

she needs me," he pleads.

My needs ploughed under

dark soil so yours can grow, forced

to my fallow time.

No coffin for this

love killed by your thoughtlessness;

naked mouldering.

Repeated goodbyes

touched to fiery sparks, puddled

blisters left to heal.

My essence pools,

slows to mirrored ice, blue sheened

to reflect you back.

also featured at The Camel Saloon

1 comment:

Gita Smith said...

If I give you credit, may I use your first three lines in a prose piece? I love them immoderately!