I saw her today
in the window of the bookshop
on Parker Avenue; not the actual her,
but her picture. Her picture
on the back of her book.
Her book, that she had been writing
when I loved her, when we lived together,
twenty years ago, at least.
She finally did it, I thought, stopping
to peer in the window, fighting the urge
to just go inside and snatch up a copy,
partly to flip through the pages to see
if I was in it, however veiled; and partly
just to stare at the picture of her, an old picture
I could tell even from outside -
I ought to know, I had taken it
decades ago on Martha's Vineyard.
She is wearing a cream-colored cable-knit
turtleneck, and the grey sea and sky
are behind her. It was a windy day, but
some miracle of photography had captured her
when the wind had left her hair in place,
so she looked stunning - grey eyes,
windburned cheeks, little lines at the edges of the mouth.
At her feet, I remember though of course it is not
in the author jacket photo, is a bucket of oysters
we had dug that morning, and would eat raw only
some few minutes after this picture was taken.
That was the picture she had used, to show herself
to the world, to sell her book.
What does that say? There is probably some
commentary to be made upon the difficulties
and sexism faced by aging females in all lines of work,
and I am sympathetic, really I am. None
of my books even have my picture on them.
But the only thing that makes any sense to me,
looking at her ensquared in the bottom left-hand corner
of the hardback edition of the domestic drama
that was always a part of the real one we lived,
I cannot help but remember that after I took the picture
and our son Kevin came bounding up from the beach
carrying a whip of kelp ten feet long,
she had said to me, It is never going to end,
and foolishly I thought she had meant us.
I saw him today in his face
I saw him in his words
I saw him in today in the wrinkles on his forehead
I saw him in my mind
I saw him in the shadows on the wall
I saw him in my bed
I saw you
but I was confused because I saw him
I saw her in your eyes
I saw her in the way you touched me
I saw her in the shakiness of your voice
were both injected with the evils of this world
I saw her in the way you hang around
every word I say like it's my last
I saw her in the night
when your sleeping by my side
your waking up shaking
your hand rests so gently on my chest
making sure I am still beating
the flashbacks dig through your soul
the tears pelt from your eyes
the pain surges like venomn
and wraps around our necks
pushing us deeper in the past
gulping for air
I saw him
I saw their story
just by watching
as I flipped
Whose Fault was It?
I saw him today.
It was painful;
It felt like my heart
Was being ripped in two,
One part with me,
One part with him.
We used to be close,
So, so close,
But now we've drifted
A million miles apart.
We are the same flesh
And blood, and here
We are, mortal enemies.
Whose fault was it?
I saw her today
An ephemeral vision
From a distant past
But never masking the
And yet so sweet
I longed to go to her
To become all that we
But when she looked
All I saw in her eyes
Was the hurt
I had caused
So long ago
And I turned away
#love #heartbreak #relationships #poetry #challenge
I saw him today
In their favourite café
He's talking with someone
A girl who is blonde
I saw her
She entered the café
I knew it's time for revelation
It's the old versus the new
"Do you still love her?" the lady asked
I saw him looked at "her"
In his hesitation
We found the answer.
I saw her today, where I normally do, three rows down; but only glimpses, when she's standing and looking back, amidst the crowd.
She's always smiling. That glint in her eyes brings me to a place I haven't been in a while. It's somewhere I can never go back to. It's pain and pleasure contorted into something perverted.
She's always smiling. But when she's not, her eyes, light gray—lustering in shades of blue—reach out to ensnare my own. I can't turn away, but I don't want to. If only I could be discreet, if only I was invisible, but I'm not, and I'm caught every time. I'm always a split-second too late.
She knows I'm here. I need to know she knows.
I'm here every week, watching my team battle it out on the oval. Tackling, crashing, leaping, pummeling to the ground. Flying. Soaring, like birds of prey. I used to come for the wins, but now I come for her.
She knows of me, but she doesn't know me. She's probably disgusted. I'm ugly, twisted, full of guile, duplicitous. I missed out on the lottery—my hand is unimpressive, unlike hers, a royal flush. Men adore her. She only need but smile. I, on the other hand, have to grovel, on my knees. It's unfair, it's shit, but that's life. Deal with it. Have some cement and toughen the fuck up!
One day, I'd emerge from my chrysalis, into a world where you won't be fucked over for your lousy hand. Where the only things that matter are what really matter: respect, trust, and love for your fellow man or woman.
One day, she'll see me, for more than I appear.
She'll love me.
She'll even worship the ground I walk, like the lowly caterpillar paying homage to the butterfly.
Until then, I'll love her from afar, secretly, in plain sight.
I just wanna tell you how I feel.
You got me inside out
And I can't hardly breathe
Cause your sight takes me away
To another place that I would rather be than without you
But to you I'm
Just another girl passing by where you work just to see you
You got me going the long way just to see you
I watch your face as you work
Your smile seems fake, your lips turn just so
But when you see me, can it be
That you're waiting just for me?
It can't be... it shouldn't be...
You grab my waist and pull me in
We've met a few times before
Chance encounters on the road
But each time it's time to go
We actually never said a word
But one day I'll tell you that
You got me inside out
Can't wait to see you cause your smile takes me away to a whole other place that I refuse to leave anymore
And I refuse to
Be the random girl passing by where you work just to see you
Just let me know if you feel the way
If you feel the way that I do