Leave a comment

Without a Sound

You promised
not to leave again;
that you would not disappear.
But the genie in the bottle laughs
because that’s all promises are–
wishes made of words.

I wish
I was not so stupid
with desire,
like a badly washed sweater
pulled out of shape
and faded.

You told me a story,
love of my youth,
with no theme
no denouement
no redemption.

I will not warm my hands
in the fires of your eyes;
I will not breathe a word
about the pain of a heart betrayed.

I will build my castle
on a mountain of glass
where no thought of you
will be allowed to scale
its steep, smooth sides.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: