I will never figure out your sad smile, and your tiny footsteps like a ballerina striving to perform her spiritual dance.
Like a Bohemian girl trying to catch the sun before her last fall.
I will never figure out why love in your presence is so modest, never flamboyant, and so insane.
Like an artist rushing his portrait before the colors wilt in his brush, one last stroke, one last stroke, perfection is there.
I will never figure out why all the poems, and all the songs, and all the music, is you in a different body with a different soul.
Darling, I'm just a girl from your past, whispering into your ears promises of love and prayers of affection.
This time I will be certain, to stay.
YOU ARE READING
Letters To My Dark Friend (#Wattys2015)
PoetryMy Dark friend, I have written those letters for you. It's getting darker before midnight .
