by Carissa Dewey
I sit here late
with my usual stained lips
and hazy mind
thinking of thoughts of you-
Of our long hike into the wintered
hills, how I stayed behind and watched
the river floor, and its passing.
How the taste of my tears
created an anger towards you-
up this path, not knowing of my blatant heart.
Even your dog returns to me, beckoning me
to widen my stride - to return to you.
It’s the day of Love’s celebration. Celebrating
its imprisonment of me.
Posted on 02/05/2010
Copyright © 2021 Carissa Dewey
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Jo Halliday on 02/05/10 at 02:46 PM|
Beautifully dichotomous between upstream and downstream, present and past, a wish that I could have and a reality that I could. I don't know if "thinking of thoughts of you" is deliberate or not, rather than the expected "thinking thoughts of you"; even if serendipitous, it doesn't matter, though it might very well be deliberate - it adds in a beautiful layer of another screen between the lover and the loved, and yet a porous screen with love the medium and the pain ever present, pervading. A good write.