I left a throaty whisper on your pillow,
I left an unwept tear on your blanket,
I left a hesitant smile at your doorway,
And your life lived itself on.
I left the last look at the window,
I left a smudged kiss at the gate,
I left unfulfilled womanhood at your doorsteps,
And your day died unbothered.
I left an unwept tear on your blanket,
I left a hesitant smile at your doorway,
And your life lived itself on.
I left the last look at the window,
I left a smudged kiss at the gate,
I left unfulfilled womanhood at your doorsteps,
And your day died unbothered.
5 comments:
This poem reminds me of a guy I once knew a long time ago. I did not know how to tell him I wanted him. I was young & afraid of rejection. Well, I still am, but I've been married so long. I forget what it's like
is it not awful to go on loving someone while watching his love for you die in front of your eyes. do you still go back to his house, to his bed, for his touch, for that one last time? how many times do the last time last?
Lovely girl, you have the soul of a poet. Omar Khayyam, prehaps?
'A book of verses beneath the bough,
A jug of wine, a loaf of bread- & thou
beside me, singing in the wilderness-'
The Rubaiyat
oh l>t! that is so sweet of you! the things you say! blush!
i hate him!
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