Don't say that you love me
when you do
your image spills over me
like a sunrise through sage curtains saturating my eyes and staining even the plaza a hazy shade of green. The scent of warm
ivory soap and espresso
runs down each window, smudging the border between me and some southern sky.
And as you set within, I'll catch
my reflection in every shrinking puddle. I'll see her parked car on every dim corner. Only the stars to plot
my way through falling darkness
and narrowing alleyways. And alone,
under this pale light, I walk and watch
my shadow fade on the asphalt.
YOU ARE READING
Of Yesterday
Poesia[Completed] Of Yesterday is a poetry collection written over the last decade, and deals intimately with emotions related to loss, grief, love, recovery and renewal. The pictures used in this chapbook are my own photographs, taken and edited personal...
