drop

his poetry tastes so good
pleasant metaphors roll tongues
like Spanish gossip
between each line I see another hidden
encrypted ‘I love yous’
three little words tied up with punctuation

never obvious, always lingering

he says that he won’t look back
but I always see him
staring at me over his right shoulder
his eyes penetrate through emails
internet connections
transmitted and
electrified.

Impulses.
can’t help counting my heart beats
every time he pulls that rabbit out of that hat
I count a little faster
black top hats are bottomless

I am tired of tied up associations that
make no sense
this poetry is like the word game
dog…house…family…sister…high school…you.

You were my high school
it took me five tries to find you.
even now I feel your dropout as my
failure

you are my failure
never succeeded in having you
or giving you up
or maybe I am your failure?
either way we never won.

Responses

1 comment so far.

1. Elizabeth A. Dudich says:

   aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa