Multiplication Table

Your lips, carved in white marble,

drink the thorny, rushing river

of my abandoned thoughts.

Time, usually punctual, missed

my goodbye this morning.

I sneak between photosensitive remorse,

tear the last four-leaf star from the horizon,

the pregnant sky caresses

my naked senses.

Your thoughts are too narrow,

thrown to the prey of memories,

immersed in blood mixed with silence.

Don't lie to my weary desires,

because all that is left for me is in your name.

Until your sun dies in me,

the sky will break in two.

Before the last sun rots, let us say

the multiplication table in a hurry.

Time has lost to eternity again,

hope has stumbled over its own shadow.

Reviews

[M. J. Smith]

Time has lost to eternity again.
Can there be a more fitting phrase to describe the monotony of depression? One blended into another in a endless, hopeless blur.
Well written, my friend.

[Lisasview]

I needed to read your poem several times because I felt it was really full of hidden meaning.
I loved it the first time but it really wasn't enough for me so as I said I just kept reading it over and over..exploring every line..
The whole poem flowed majestically from the page and into my heart..
Lisa

[Writergurl]

I sneak between photosensitive remorse,
tear the last four-leaf star from the horizon,
the pregnant sky caresses
my naked senses.

Love this part, and how you summed this up,
this is amazing