Welcome Visitor: Login to the siteJoin the site

On Larnaca Beach Summer 85

Poetry By: donkylemore

we had tired of one another , the holiday was now an endurance. it was over . we were playing it out till the end each hoping for the end.. and as we lay on the sand after a night of physically love .. there was no room left for any other.. we were lying to each other

Submitted:Feb 18, 2009    Reads: 106    Comments: 5    Likes: 7   

We lay beneath the soaring sun;
You a walkman away .
And only the tapped tattoo ;
Of your toes on the sand ;
Could tell me ;
That your head was full of noise.

And with that little box
You built a wall of blocks
You could switch me out ,and off
Caressing your salt wet locks;

Squinting against the blazing sun,
In an interlude of cloud
I caught your eye ;
A furtive flash
And for an instant
Felt I caught a flickering reminisce
Of our coupling in the night
To the incessant hum
Of the ever watchful fan
Craning its twisting purring neck
Voyeur of our sweated carnal love

And when that cloud had passed
And precluded my intrusion or inclusion;
In your thoughts which silence had amassed
We both knew the thing was done

But before that cloud had come
Out love had paled and succumbed
To each his own aura had retreated
Lest each again be cheated

In unwisely invested care or love
The wanton and the wasted emotion
That ebbed on loves deadest ocean.

I was too impulsive ; too self deluding
Too pompous in my pride
Too shameless in deception
Too selfish to live a little less for the self;
A little more for the us

We'd loved and cried but even worse
We both were lying when we were crying.

For we didn't care to share
A tender thought , much less a love

Our dream has ended but truly
When we dreamed ; we hadn't
Really gone to sleep

The little sand dune that your tapped tattoo
Had made , in ripples on the drifting sand,
Seeped slowly back to sea
As the gentle wave stole at it fragile foundations

Behind the shaded glasses
Your eyes are as blind like mine
Not because we cant see;
But rather that we wont.

And you are further than that walkman away
Further than that flat and distant horizon.
More distant than the passing cloud ,

The ships ly anchored in the bay
Their plimsoll lines high , without cargo
They are empty too ;
Like us - both empty vessels
On the sands, waiting for another tide.


| Email this story Email this Poetry | Add to reading list


About | News | Contact | Your Account | TheNextBigWriter | Self Publishing | Advertise

© 2013 TheNextBigWriter, LLC. All Rights Reserved. Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Policy.