7 Aug 2004

Of You

Posted by Pye in Poetry | 2:02pm

through what I have of you
Precious little, I realise

Two brittle roses
long dead
Pressed into forgotten books.

My name in blue
On snowy white
inside a star
Surrounded by you.

A yellow scrap
of soothing feelings
naughty thoughts
and yearning wants.

And lastly --
Those memories
Pasted painstaking in the scrapbook
in a part of my mind
Constant. Comforting. Hurting.
Our memories.

Sometimes what we have of someone is so little, compared to what that person was, has been, will always be in our lives. I guess material things do not matter. This was meant as a dedication when I thought our relationship had come to an end. Now I wonder if it will ever end. Never seeing each other again, no contact... is that an end?

Current Mood: Cold
Current Music: Rules - Chhodo na mujhe