My poetry
is meaningless
if it cannot bring you to me,
can not conjure you..

I have a silver bangle around
my wrist.
It reminds me of you,
cold and wrapped around me,
thin and insulating,
and always getting lost
when Im showering...

My words could rhyme
perfectly and still
be no magic spell
to bridge this distance.

I have eaten pomegranates in
your presence
and stained my lips red
and yours,
but your lips were
clean
and mine were still stained...

I said it was an omen
and you said I was
crazy....

Distance is a measure of
time and space.
And time and space
conspire against me.
They keep me separated
part from part
and no words
or rhyme or tears
or time
will allow you back
to me
when I need you.

02/03/2002

Posted on 02/03/2002
Copyright © 2026 Vikki Owens