05-03-2016, 10:13 AM
Edit #1
I have a precious picture
on my crowded shelf,
drawn by a former lover,
in which a crown
sits on my head,
a king.
I must study it,
keep it close like my phone,
there on the shelf, by the cordial invitation
to the dance where we shared our last kiss.
You, having parted from my side,
prefer to erase that past.
Original
There is a picture
on my shelf,
made by a former lover,
in which a crown
sits on my head
as it would on a king.
She, having parted from my side,
prefers to erase that past.
I must acknowledge
it, keep it close, there
on my shelf, beside the cordial invitation
to the party where we had our last kiss.
I have a precious picture
on my crowded shelf,
drawn by a former lover,
in which a crown
sits on my head,
a king.
I must study it,
keep it close like my phone,
there on the shelf, by the cordial invitation
to the dance where we shared our last kiss.
You, having parted from my side,
prefer to erase that past.
Original
There is a picture
on my shelf,
made by a former lover,
in which a crown
sits on my head
as it would on a king.
She, having parted from my side,
prefers to erase that past.
I must acknowledge
it, keep it close, there
on my shelf, beside the cordial invitation
to the party where we had our last kiss.
If you're the smartest person in the room, you're in the wrong room.
"Or, if a poet writes a poem, then immediately commits suicide (as any decent poet should)..." -- Erthona
"Or, if a poet writes a poem, then immediately commits suicide (as any decent poet should)..." -- Erthona