Monday, March 9, 2009

"So that you still love me"

In a half-written poem, let me again
Commemorate,
How, on that last day
The drifting splotches of clouds
Grew purple
From the intense effort
Of keeping the hidden sun
To themselves.

Is that how she looked?
That purple?
Dressed in floral hues
On that last day
The insecure woman,
Flaming as she hummed:
"Pour que tu m'aimes encore."

The sea is like the soul.
On a calm day,
Endlessly serene.
Blow a little, O winds,
And the mirror cracks
Infinite jagged waves
Intimidate,
By their unsaid promise
Of havoc..

If the sea were, one day
To gravitate unto itself
And stand, miniscule, a mortal -
One would meet a beautiful woman
Twinkling and unreachable as the stars
Serene and turbulent as the sea
Radiant and terrible as the sun
Warning as she danced:
"Pour que tu m'aimes encore."
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Mar 9th, 2009.

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