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Posted on | February 26, 2009 | No Comments

i think it is time,she said,to let me go,bury me,
sweep the memories away with the yellow leafs
blown in by the wind.
do you still believe in love,when you go out
in the night,on the roof,
and shed your tears looking at the pale moon,do you
still see a faded picture in it?or,
does your heart freeze with hatred;when alone
in the late night,you try to force sleep into burning eyes?

i mumbled something in return,i think
i told her,your dress looks pretty,red
is really your colour.and your eyes,still
have that undefinable something.and that-
and that strand of hair
which still curls down your face,
you know,babe,i think you are still…

i do not think she heard me,except
a strange look on her face,as she went on-
have you begun praying yet,believing
in God,that i will go away?or do you
still eat chocolates everyday,hating them,
and bearing that awful taste-reliving
those arguments we had about them?

she touched her eyes,but she was not crying-
do you still smoke?she asked,thirty
cigarettes a day,you know,one takes out
five minutes of your life (then i should
already be dead,i said.but again,
she did not hear me,i think)

why dont you throw away that picture,tear to shreds
that poem you wrote last winter,still
nestling in your diary,it is
blurred now.you have to move on.tell me,should you
not find another girl?because,to tell you
the truth,i do not care.i am fine,and not
fretting like you,and you know,you should not
this writing of poems?walking alone-are you trying
to prove something?to whom?because i do not
really want to know.and then,she touched her
eyes again,but it might have been the wind.

she said something.but i did not hear.

P.S. I have been reading Raymond Carver.He wrote some very beautiful poetry. The poem I liked most was What the Doctor Said. I have also been listening to some Rolling Stones, especially Sympathy For The Devil. Both might be reflected in this poem.

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