New Poetry


That Last Night

Those magic
days and nights
spent in your sad
little room
with wine and beer
and song and laughter

they seem
impossible to me now
and I suppose they are

your body
bathed in candlelight
and the feel of it
against my own

was just something else
to take for granted
something else
not to believe in

and that last night
you pacing about the floor
with wine and cigarettes

me on the balcony
staring across rooftops
trying hard to think
about nothing
much at all

you said I was a fool
for not loving you

and even then
I knew you were
right
though I didn’t
say so
at the time

or maybe I did

sometimes it’s hard
to remember.

[Home] [Poetry]