sometimes, i miss jean-knees and sock-feet. simplicity. i want hot pavement and bare feet; to walk in his woods. sun and skin and sensation. simplicity.
all i want to do is remember and all he wants to do is forget.


"Our Memories Are Convenient."

i sob myself to
sleep. (you will never pause to
think of me again.)

oh, this old love still
cuts me so deep, late at night.
(you've always been dead.)

michael, i will hate
(love) you until the day i
die. (or you come home.)

if i could write you
the longest letter ever,
i don't think i would.

all i really want
is for you to come back to
me, and hold me with

firm assurances
that you always meant to come
someday, and today

was that perfect day.
(but you won't ever do it.)
i would give my whole

life for just twenty
minutes more of knees, feet, hands,
love. (but i know that

you will never be
in my door again. perhaps
someday you'll explain.)

i can never be
whole until you are here. so
i suppose i won't

ever heal; you are
too intent on running from
everything we had.

i cannot even
begin to describe the depth
to which i miss you.



Haiku by MiVidaDeEpílogos.
Read 919 times
Written on 2008-01-24 at 04:30

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David L Wright
Ah yes the lamenting sounds of hopelessness for an unrequited love. It's an interesting read a little lengthy for a Haiku, but then who am I to judge. Happy trails.
2008-01-31