The first of february

A new city moves, an old friend leaves
I sit stationed at the top end of my blanket
Tears they well
Swelling out to this skin’s surface
My ears unthreatening
A translation is of these words am speaking
Poetry in French and Italian

One I love miserably,
the other I should but do not
both foreign

Both a mirror
Reflections. My heart
Little red twinklings.
A love. Loves. this heart

One I love miserably, the other I should
Both lost.
A love. Loves. Thud

Tears unseen. Words unheard
Inarticulated
Him and He. I
All foreign.

ps.
i am a little soap dish…
soggy and slimy

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2 Comments Add yours

  1. i dunno what to say…this is sadly beautiful…or perhaps beautifully sad…the lines..the subtleties…wow

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