By Rebecca T. Dickinson
It’s been a year or more
since we colored ourselves
on sidewalks,
a parking lot
and my heart.
You spilled
red wine
before the rain,
and I took
another sip.
You didn’t tell me
there was her,
but you knew there is him.
You brought chalk,
black,
garnet
and white sheets.
Run white fingers
through my hair.
I close my eyes.
Yellows,
whites
and May.
Then you spill
beer,
vodka
and tequila.
You whistle and draw
as I try to recall
a time or myth
when you loved me at all.
© 2007 by Rebecca T. Dickinson. All Rights Reserved
Tagged: Life, literature, poetry, relationships, Writing
If words could speak about feelings and feelings past…loved it!
Thank you very much! I’m usually hesistant nowadays to share my poetry because it is so personal. Thank you for your comment!
Those last four lines gave me a shiver which I can still feel while typing this. I love this.
Thank you very much! I’m glad you liked it, and thanks for your comment!