There’s a reason why two is my lucky number…
One always precedes me.
We spilled ourselves out again
In the wine of cheap words so paper thin;
Language gives no other way out or in.
It’s a gift so great and yet so small…
Leaves us thinking, and worst still, wanting it all.
Is it selfish that my only regret
Is the fear that she is or will be
The one whom you love again,
More than you love me?
This is the return to my lovely misery.
The wine spilled over every thought
That I’ve had about these things,
Staining them dark red.
You poured your glass
And I emptied mine.
So now I feel drained and hollow,
The words held near
In my selfishness and fear…
All that I had left to offer you.
The two-way poison that you sucked out,
Along with the pain and tears that come free.
So wide awake now, I cannot sleep;
I have to ask her help for you to help me.
What could be a lovelier return to my dear friend misery?
There is a reason why two is my lucky number…
She will always precede me.
| This was ok, but it felt like it was a bit too personal, one of those things where a good personal subject gets to be a little too personal, and thus harder for other people to relate to. Ideally, a poem should be personal, yet universal.||| Posted on 2007-03-02 00:00:00 | by Ygi | [ Reply to This ] || Interestingly written poem. I'm not to sure what the wine is supposed to be symbolizing, that is if it symbolizes anything at all. The words used here are great for this poem, but for some reason the idea with the wine is just a little confusing to me. Maybe I'm not reading into as well as I should. Other than that, this is pretty good. Form and flow is smooth through the transitions, and I love the intro and conclusion couplets.|
|| Posted on 2007-03-01 00:00:00 | by Desser | [ Reply to This ] |