The Title is "Dust"

Reads: 184  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
I am a very closed person, always have been. I lived for many years without letting that "someone special" into my life. Sex, yes. Love, no. I always preferred friends with benefits. Then I met someone. He was still married at the time but soon after, he and his wife divorced. We were together for 4 years. Then one day, nothing. No returned calls, no reply to emails. I didn't understand and thought that maybe something terrible might have happened to him. I was out with friends one night and I spotted him sitting at a table. I went over, not sure how to feel. When he saw me, he quickly jumped up, shook my hand and introduced me as an ex-coworker to his new wife. The reason he never got back in contact was because he met this woman and they were now married. I tried to smile and be polite while feeling like a truck just hit me. Eric gave me a hug and whispered to me.....I'm sorry. This poem, Dust, is the result. I hope that you enjoy (although that may be the incorrect word).

Submitted: May 06, 2011

A A A | A A A

Submitted: May 06, 2011

A A A

A A A


DUST

Such an uneventful life,

Bound by stained dented walls and spilled

ashes on the floor.

The bed seems to release a mocking groan

as I lay sleepless in an afternoon

that's too hot with no promise of rain.

The paint in here is peeling-As if, too,

trying to shed the skin of the past.

All of the pictures have been taken down,

Yet their shadows remain to remind me

of what is missing.

Even the crucifix wears a shroud of dust.

You left, leaving nothing here but me, thinking you

Were going to return (doesn't most everyone assume that?)

Had I known, I would have chosen my words more carefully and

Wouldn't have just smiled, saying nothing, when I should have said something.

I would have made certain that I drank in your smell and memorized the way

It felt to kiss you after you had been away.

The bottle of Scotch that I had bought for you still sits, unopened,

Also collecting dust.

Then....nothing,

Just long days and endless nights.

And then

And then

And then....you found her,

Or perhaps, she found you...

It doesn't matter, at least not to me. Much.

Together in a home with

Unstained walls and clean floors.

No dust.

No crucifix.

No Scotch.

How wondrous if must feel,

In that moment just before your lips touch hers-

Warm breath and non-secretive desire.

I envy that permanence, that openness, that way

You lay next to her at night as she listens to you float

Into a dream, and knowing that when you leave

In the morning, that you will return (doesn't most everyone assume that?),

While I lay awake in the afternoon

Waiting for the rain.



© Copyright 2018 Max Parker. All rights reserved.