Saturday, October 22, 2011

If I Could-

If I could
It is the fragrance of your voice
that I wish I could hold onto,

The aroma of it
a reminiscent
of all things known and familiar.

Things essential to let me be.
Like
newspapers,
poetry
and home.
---------------------

Here in the mornings of my world
there is almost everything
fresh coffee beans,
a sun full of warmth in my windows,
the clean visible lines of the floor
and the approaching known winter.
Yet something is missed.

Perhaps the knowledge of my being,
maybe a sense of belonging
or the assuring glow of your eyes.

I wish I could clasp
all our goodbye's in my palm
give them a perceptible human form.
And then I would've lived with it
until the end of our shared hiatus.

But then
however greedy I may sound
it is good somehow.

As the flickering light of your thoughts
and the known absence of you
gives life to the dying poet inside me.
And I scribble something akin to a poem.
Without which my poet shall cease to breath.

... You know,
It's this way
I grope for your voice in the unknown
and I end up catching a verse

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