Cold Songs (a poem)
Cold songs
Wont inform you
Of the night I waited for you
Expecting strange scents
Meant to turn me some shade of green
Or remind you
Of our resurrection (the second)
On that bench in the park
Between tense quiet and
The intent of a hard fuck
Cold songs
Wont make you smile
To think how much better
Your reflection appears
Without my sadness infecting your show
Or make you pause
Like you should have
To consider the injury implicit
In little words spoken in unfortunate sequence
On beautiful days, in beautiful moments
Cold songs
Wont tell you anything
Unless they are mine
And only then
If you had ever learned
What my love looked like on you
To spare me,
I hope you never paid attention.
That's the new one. Let me know if you like it please. Like the last one, I think it needs tweaking (though less tweaking then the last one).
Love y'all.
Cold songs
Wont inform you
Of the night I waited for you
Expecting strange scents
Meant to turn me some shade of green
Or remind you
Of our resurrection (the second)
On that bench in the park
Between tense quiet and
The intent of a hard fuck
Cold songs
Wont make you smile
To think how much better
Your reflection appears
Without my sadness infecting your show
Or make you pause
Like you should have
To consider the injury implicit
In little words spoken in unfortunate sequence
On beautiful days, in beautiful moments
Cold songs
Wont tell you anything
Unless they are mine
And only then
If you had ever learned
What my love looked like on you
To spare me,
I hope you never paid attention.
That's the new one. Let me know if you like it please. Like the last one, I think it needs tweaking (though less tweaking then the last one).
Love y'all.
In little words spoken in unfortunate sequence
On beautiful days, in beautiful moments
Those words alone would make the poem for me. But I'm still left wondering not so much if I understand them, as if I have ever known the feeling behind them, myself.