mardi, janvier 11, 2005


I fold my napkin on my knee
and sink into the plate,
the cup, the tea,
the sparkling wine,
the candlelight,
the well-planned night
and resist the urge to see you
smile at me.

my black dress strap has slid
my shoe makes blisters on my heel.
I watch you as you kneel
and hold a velvet box to me:
will you
would you
could you
marry me?

of course I could
I would I will
what difference will it make,
I wonder,
since we're made for hurting others?
So here's to us
and all our blunders;
we'll make each other pay,
we each will say
words we wouldn't want to say.
And I'm sure it all will work out for the best
although you've yet to see me at my worst.
Who's to say you'll even love me
when you see me less than lovely.

The glass of wine
is holding light
and suddenly I know
the answer's 'no.'
I cannot say it though
and so
I nod my head and smile
relieved to turn another
of nature's corners.
And we embrace,
as foreigners.


Blogger Worldgineer said...

There's something very drawing about the cadence on this one. It tells me that it wants to rhyme, but only does in places I don't expect. It's also very story-like, and I feel like I want to know more. I think this could make a lovely song.

11:14 AM  

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