Of Muses And Other Ghosts
I paint life in cheap ink, close to you,
Putting my courage on paper,
Waiting for your face to turn from the window,
So I could get a chance to approach your lips with a kiss,
Or your left cheek.
I'd give you a flower,
The fields are full,
But the train never stops.
..and now you read and say in your mind,
upsetting words for a heart, for my heart.
(Others don't care if you love them. But I care.)
I'm waiting for someone, anyone,
To call your name. I need to hear it,
To burn it in my mind, next to the shape of your skin.
I don't want to stain this moment, with the regret of maybe,
With the regret of not knowing,
At least the name of this shape sitting next to me.
..20 minutes later, she left,
as soundless as she sat
grasping someone else's hand.
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