Saturday, October 25, 2008

Like Clove












Like Clove

Around one I hoped you would be the last to leave.

I had never talked to anyone like this, like we did,
and you were still there at two. I watched as you

quickly gathered your things, girlfriends tugging.

Longing in your eyes as we shook hands?

A feeling of not wanting to open mine ever again.


When I finally did, there was your scarf left behind,

and me wanting to hang myself with it. Fearfully,

the myth of you mingled with this scent of clove.
Thread and fiber I shall keep, one day wrapping

the back of your neck and drawing to my lips

yours. Giving to you what is not mine anymore.

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2008

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