Must I Convince You Again, If I Must, I Must Poem by RIC BASTASA

passion, it is the sound of
blankets and
pillows it is the song of
bedroom and
shower that make our hearts
join in the symphony of
the choir of passionate
melodies, remembering and
contemplating
on those satisfied nights
away from the usual crowd
of lonely people,
and so i ask where is the passion now?
what table what space have you
put it? what are those chairs
with no one sitting there?
those cold coffee cups
and burned cigars
a room filled with smoke clearing up
with time
i guess we have a role to play
in this domino of jejune
this long waiting
passion must be reborn in books
and monitors
those poems unwritten
because you have encircled your body
with flimsy arms
fingers melting into water
feet without soles
shoes with molds because of
non usage
dead nails that you have not pulled
or cut
sow the seeds again
on those grassy fertile lands
of forgotten desire
come with me, i am alone in my bed
we can talk and then
decide
what we can fill with those blank spaces
those closed doors
those broken stairs
our eyes may wink again
and be
sympathetic at last....