Foolish Gold

Part 1

Foolish Gold

K.S. 5/2013

 

Spilling my tears in the mirror sitting before me.

You call and I come despite the scattered debris.

On my way there I remember your anatomic love.

Tired of trying to get there, my body is so heavy.

Almost as if our past lives live inside my swollen belly.

Today is Sunday a day you should be unworthy of.

 

Today is your day off, the day you will burn what’s left.

Unwilling to be clothed because it’s forgien I get undressed.

The smoke you create smells of syrup just another ominous thing.

While you investigate, my memories become dark cloudy rings in the air.

You think I am listening in this mess, but all I do is stare.

We talk of our future the plans we’d make, you promised a lot of things.

 

We smoke and smoke and become enlightened.  You’d think we’d learn.

Our bodies are ripe and our minds are in season to yearn.

The flowers you picked for me yesterday, I fear now lay at another’s feet.

Trembling bodies are moving wildly then suddenly you’re not hungry.

Pausing, I’m injured as you start revisiting our obstacles as if they were relevant presently.

Confused, I scared easily I ask you to please love me sweetly.

 

I feel you going away from me repeatedly day after every hollow day.

Feeling unworthy, or punished it shouldn’t be you telling me you need to break away.

Daunting dictations of aged works become present yet again and oh they sting.

Still, we make love since we only see each other once a week. (You’d say f**k)

You try to restrain yourself but we both know you don’t have much luck.

Needing to get it through my widening mind, you only have me there to test your box spring.

 

Still I have that all-consuming fear you have not kept our agreement to be true.

In my bones, Sunday knows, I am probably one of few.

Murdered by these rapid and sudden changes I start to shake.

If I found you would the scent of us still be on your sheets, or is it she?

You don’t call for a whole week, maybe the tables have turned and I should check your receipts?

Angry and vexed watch out under your feet for I know you will think the earth is starting to quake.

 

Flying through the air, your body limp, you can’t control this, you should have checked your brakes.

Sunday is not stupid and neither am I.  Besides momma always said I was a smart girl.

A becoming young lady, in some way

a treasury of painful memories.

.

.

Author's Note

I've become inspired to make something of this poem. I don't know what yet, but it seems like it could be a great start to something.

Reviews

[Rocans]

Good write. A bit sad and dreary but fine all the same. There's something about the line "almost as if our past lives live inside my swollen belly." I thought was great. You express yourself well with vivid images and well placed words. Good write. Hope you're not as sad as the poem sounds though. :)

[K.S.78]

Thank you! I have good days and bad, all part of the process I hear :)

[curvygirlrock]

cool poem i really really like it

[K.S.78]

Thank you!

[Criss ;)]

It's too lengthy to read..lol, but don't worry, i liked this piece.......i can feel your depth of this piece. nicely penned.....
have a nice time ....100/100 :)

[K.S.78]

Thank you :)