Arabesques

I am gone now, okay? Not here, but there,
Not buried prematurely in a basement
On the frigid plains, but at a table on a
Terrace just above a beach, beneath the
Sun somewhere in Mexico. My heart's
Not broken anymore. The table's other
Chair is empty. Either my love's stepped
Away, but will be back to grasp my hand,
To kiss me, momentarily, or I have given
Up on her, and drink my rum and Coke
Alone, content to sweat and watch the
Waves, and smoke another cigarette.
I don't see how I'd get her there. She's
Never here. It's not too likely I will
Ever hold that pretty hand with mine,
So no one will come to that chair. The
Smoke off of my cigarette goes upward,
Forming arabesques, then disappears,
Like fantasies. I've learned, I'll learn,
To live without her, there and here.
My heart will heal, and I will be okay.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 60 times
Written on 2016-01-27 at 14:34

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