Theme Park at its Darkest

You rang me like a bell.

I lie on my back with the night pressed against my face

And the images resonate one after another –

Lying propped on your elbow in the eddies of the sheets

Looking at your bare ass as you’re bent over packing your suitcase

Prowling the footpath beside me with high-heeled precision

Reaching up inside you toward the depths of where you dream

Now, I want to escape the equation

Of all the other things that have added up in chronology

To a street fight in a squalid dead-end alley

And I’m going to change the order

Because it’s my poem

And because I can

What I want to do now

Is to choose the ending

Which is the night in the restaurant

When we could not stop kissing

To the disgust of the other diners

And that’s the last image

Which has no meaning

But is filled with feeling

And it’s the last sound I want to feel

Until I decay into reverberant midnight silence.

This entry was posted on January 22, 2019 at 7:40 am and is filed under Love letters, poetry with tags beauty, poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.