Walls closing in,
pressing,
squeezing the life
out of one
who once lived well
dancing on paved streets,
laughing with the brown-eyed girl
who sometimes drank too much
in their jaunts around town.
Oh, how she used
to kiss him sweet,
and then ravage him
like a two-bit whore...
that's what he loved about her,
sweet and saucy
with a smile
that could light up the moon.
With an angel's voice,
she would snuggle close
reading him Browning or Rossetti,
tracing his most intimate places
with delicate fingers;
She would speak
of being a poet one day,
how she would write
about the two of them
dancing on paved streets
in moonlight...
But the walls
press upon him,
and the moonlight
shines on lone teardrops
rolling down his face;
Her voice
is but a memory
that haunts him
in the still of night.
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Comments: 17
Lovely work Cheryl!
My congratulations! "Haunting Memory" is currently featured on The Sound Of Poetry Review through Sunday, July 06, 2008. Please, keep submitting your poetry. Many thanks, the TSOPR Editor.
Thank you, Ernesto!