"How did it start?" They ask.
It started with a look.
A brief glance across a room of people.
It started with the catch of an eye,
You grabbed it before you realized
It would be painful to return.
The first words exchanged
Were of music and poetry
Singing to my ears
Like a delicate harmony.
We continued the affair
Of soft words and heavy looks
Without making them exclusive
To one another.
The fear of three words
Dragged us each into the arms
Of another.
I could see you in her arms
While looking over his shoulder.
And I could feel the pain in your eyes
Despite the miles between us.
I saw you walk away for the last time
And persuaded myself that
Our love was pure poison.
Yet his words were not as gentle
His looks not as powerful
As the one who
Caught my eye.
c.d.
YOU ARE READING
1:46 a.m.
PoesiaA collection of poems, most written at extremely late, or should I say extremely early, times of the day, when my mind can truly bleed its thoughts onto paper.
