dedicated the my other half: jaya
happy birthday
i bottle my tears,
the way one would capture butterflies in a jar and call it joy,
(because happiness is a butterfly)
until the bitter tears can fill an ocean
and i call it summertime sadness
my heart: ripened,
roped,
and ripped
like the warm abricots
rotting away with their flies of decay on their branches
on an enviously scorched summer evening
somewhere in northern italy
i’m wearing a white dress
on the balcony,
the wind could supply my lungs
for the rest of my life,
wishing my riviera romance
could have been milky pure
like the rivers on the moon,
but death lives and life dies
was it wrong of me to speak?
was it better for me to die?
you'll kill me if you stop,
will we meet again?
if not later,
when?
YOU ARE READING
JE TE LAISSERAI DES MOTS ━━ poetry
Poetrya man takes his sadness down to the river / but then he's still left / with the river. a man takes his sadness and throws it away / but then he's still left with his / hands. POETRY © putrescentpoet 2021
