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All we had was September
pressed between us
like a thorny rose

You were writing that
book of poems
and finishing
a thesis

We would take the walks
searching shops
for vintage clothes

you and your Marlboros
me and my Chanel perfume,
your gift to me on the day
you said my eyes slayed you

I remember you watching
as I received my tattoo,
your eyes following the ink
as it snaked its way across my shoulder

and in our kitchen ~
how you made toast and jam
over the open burner

and your love
of Loreena McKennitt
on stormy nights

how you would tear up
wrapped in our quilt

wrapped in my love

There are a hundred stories
written where you lived,
less where you moved
and kept the hours in the rooms
we occupied

The grey lead pencil fingerprints
on the doorframe where you paused ~

I never wiped them off

I still see the fall leaves,
a burning pyre
carrying the scent of woodsmoke ~

and my red lipstick
smeared across your mouth

The night has grown colder,
soon the rain will fall
and roads will be slick
with the wet

but right now, Aurora blazes

and I am dreaming of the time
when you called me Cantata

© 8 years ago, damiho
Like (7)

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
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Not Explicit Content


Other than the T.V. this reminds me of the train trip scene in Dr. Zhavogo

Yes, I am stranger. Thank you for noticing.
Great movie, btw, wonderful score.

author comment

if you're a human then technically you're a human - weird right?

Unsurprisingly, I did know that.
Weird? Up for debate.

Turtles can breathe through their bums.
Some would find that weird. I see it as a super power.
Which is weirder?

author comment

Will likely feel both stupid AND old
when it's explained, but...LTNS?
Nothing but crickets in my head...

*seer our breath? I'm assuming you meant *see.
I THINK (can't assume) I get what you mean by your words.
It's always interesting to read of what others see in what we write.

author comment

Hi, pleiades,
So many separate images here, but softly connected as if it's all one continuous deep thought which seems to travel outward and then makes its way back into the room in the form of the breath of winter through the open window. (My comment is one long thought...) The second stanza is especially intriguing - it feels very late at night, but yet in the last stanza, the white pines are facing the dawn light. For me, this gives a sense of contentment, the night was uninterrupted.
Thank you!

Very sensual, the unspoken Images sent me to intimate times I fondly remember.

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