departures
The light is so yellow,
under the door to the bedroom.
It promises things--soft things,
but there is only the lonely memory of your mouth
on my mouth, and how your hands hold the summer dark.
I don't recall the smell of you,
not on purpose, but it appears
again and again, as though you could be behind me.
Mostly, I believe I am too strong to cry for this,
And I have never lied, except by leaving.
copyright 2007
b. lipton
under the door to the bedroom.
It promises things--soft things,
but there is only the lonely memory of your mouth
on my mouth, and how your hands hold the summer dark.
I don't recall the smell of you,
not on purpose, but it appears
again and again, as though you could be behind me.
Mostly, I believe I am too strong to cry for this,
And I have never lied, except by leaving.
copyright 2007
b. lipton