Tuesday, February 7, 2012

The Aftertaste Of Yesterday

What are those roses
you hold between your teeth
the bitter taste of sweetness
or the aftertaste of yesterday
and lingering taste... of her.

Do you still savour songs
while you dance around
the guttered streets of longing
or peel the pages
looking for the love beneath.

You smell of whiskey sours - sitting
too long - in that worn out chair
watching - the dizziness of trains
and the clatter of those who drawl.

The ocean only cries
if you watch it wave goodbye
so what sadness do you seek
while you’re waiting....
there is no happy ending
if you only have eyes -
for you.

1 comment:

  1. Nahhhhh, some of this works and some is terrible; I started off in the mood to write, but with a headache (no excuse) it all faded away and I just wanted to finish this poem off. Perhaps I’ll actually try to re-write this one – something I rarely ever do; maybe it’s time.