I waited for you
until the avocados on my table
turned to dust;
until my curtains faded
From the heat of my stare;
And my feet wore down the carpet
And the wood under it;
Until my plants all died
And the cat ranaway
To find a normal life;
Until my alarm clock exploded
And my fingernails became long knives;
Until the snow piled up to my third-floor windows.
I want you to konw
That I moved to a better location
Where time trots faster.
I have a new persian rug
And some healthy philodendrons
That complement my colour scheme
The members of my Tuesday-night group
Are so witty
That I'm collecting their bon mots
with some of my sketches and photographs
For a book to be published in time for Christmas.
Do look for it.
My phone number is unlisted.
I don't give out my adress
To just anyone,
And I'm rarely home.
If you tried to contact me, I wouldn't know it
If you pound on my door,
Sobbing my name,
The neighbors wouldn't recognize you
And would call the police.
You could have sent a letter to my old adress.
Saying "sorry" and "please" and "let me know"
But it never reached me.
If I still cry sometimes;
If I still wear the necklace you gave me
In the hope of absorbing your strenght,
The better to fight you
And to break hearts,
You never ask.
Your silence coats my walls
Like ice on rock.
2006-07-19
11:03:49
·
7 answers
·
asked by
SadafY
2