Saturday, 25 April 2015

"This Isn't Love, "She Said ...

" This isn't love," she said,

It's a poem.

And she handed him some words

That whorled and skittered,

Blazing like a sun in the era

Between them.

"This isn't "Au revoir,"

He replied,

Giving her his farewell.


I expect that startled you, didn't it?

You weren't expecting a break-up.

Poets usually deliver THOSE

With fireworks and floods.


Sometimes endings are

Because they just have to


And that's OK.


Ah, but wait!

If you linger here, you'll

See him slip inside

To warm himself.


He will look nonchalant, understanding that

She will pretend she doesn't

Know he's here.

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