I hold in myself certain miserable reminiscences
Thoughtfully bleeding at the edge of my heart,
Severing the mighty beatings of hope
From the intuitive sagacity deluge.
I carry with me several sad memories,
Beige, olive, roasted and wacky, knotted up
Under the enchanted yearning sunrise
Of a wistful daydream… Just another pipe dream…
…Our love turned out to be barely a shining teeny glass
Magnificently gleaming beneath the blaze of passion,
Sparkling with joy around the puzzles’ desire,
Wonderfully melting our souls within a minty, savory delight.
Yet too soft in the blustery vernacular flow
Of a manhood obliged custom, misunderstanding societal touches.
Pressured by all and nothings
Our years alas forced their way into thousands of pieces,
Collapsing relentlessly at our dusk, underneath the heavens.
Yet kneeing at the corners of hopelessness
We were shaping back the glass
Till the sharp shards deeply wounded our shattered minds.
I carry with me a lacerated heart
Beneath a fresh, green, woody pipe dream,
For the peace to hug me tight.
© Simona Prilogan, London