Rings of Smoke

These poems do not live: it's a sad diagnosis.

you

Posted on | November 9, 2008 | 1 Comment

i think sometimes,
of you,
putting your hands on your cheeks,
looking at me,
thoughtfully,
half-mockingly,
spending my life looking at that image,
and you,
animate form of life,
sometimes i think,
you are so pretty,
and i so ugly,
never the twain to meet,
sometimes,
i have even laid awake at night,
thinking of you and me,
and what could be,
and what will not…

i believe,
that we can sometime make it,
maybe forty six years later,
when we both have grey hair,
you and me looking at each other
through thick glasses,
maybe in love,
maybe not,
or may be;
just companions,
complementary other halves
or maybe not…

we laugh at each other,
and each other’s jokes,
maybe four years are solid background,
for forty six,
but can i trust myself that long?
to live that long?
though if thats the price,
i probably would…
would you?

dedicated to the surrealist. i will be writing more about her soon.

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Category: english poetry, irony/humor/wtf, life@xl
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Comments

One Response to “you”

  1. Roseleen
    November 13th, 2008 @ 7:33 pm

    Hmmmmmmmmm someday perhaps you will.

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