By: ailsaandlisa

Apr 15 2012

Category: poem, sonnet


It is entirely possible (he said),
to love and then to part. And I should know:
I’ve done it, after all. I’ve learnt to look
on air that used to be a face; to hear
an absent cadence in each voice; to fear
a scent; that wine cannot provide the taste
I crave; that skin can survive spaciousness;
that work may be a substitute for joy.
The pain has lessened year on year on year.
I have good friends. My days are almost real.
At night she smiles, drinks tea, her perfume hits
like smelling salts, I feel her weight along
my length, her fingers in my hair, then I’m
awake, it’s dark, and she has gone, again.


2 comments on “Sense”

  1. love what you’ve done here ladies, with link between the beautiful not-quite-there flowers and the words of the poem.

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