You Equate Your Sadness With The Clouds In The Sky
Come Morning No Thick Sweep Of Clearing
Can Part The Dreary Haze Of Grey.
Lowering Into Your Mould The Armchair

Welcomes You With A Slight Puff,
Dust Or Dead Skin As You So Often Call It
Exhaled Upon Us Like A Floating Metaphor.
Your Scowl Which Once Halted

My Passing As You Stood Beneath A Bar Light
Now Just A Scar Of A Scar, A Signature Of
Change, Scripted In Bitterness,
An Upturned Smile, You The Clozaril Clown.

And I Wonder Those Young Words Of Pessimistic Foretelling
You Charmed Out Of Your Mouth,
Were They More Than The Arguments Of Flirtation,
And The Vacant Gaze At The Falling Moons
Were They The Signs Of What Were To Come?

This Love For You Which Keeps Me Like A Dog
By Your Side, Cannot Suppress My Desire To
Slap You Till You Scream, Till Your Tears Taste Of
Hysteria Not Indifference.

Do Not The Car Lights That Sweep Soundlessly Across
The Bedroom Walls Will You To Step Outside
To Eat With Me Anywhere But The Kitchen Table
With Its Rotting Fruits And Wilting Month Old Flowers.

To Drink And Fuck And Shout And Scream
Like Our Shadows Of Two Years Gone.
We Vowed With Words Of Once In A Life Time Joy-
“till Death Do Us Part”, Our Ten Year Anniversary

Next Month. Tonight You’re Watching The Steam Cloud
The Inside Windows Of Our Home,
As I Sit By The Fire Mourning Your Loss,
Like A Widow Watching Reels Of A Loved One Dying Days

More Shayari by Vincent James Turner
    29 Aug 2008 No Comment 1

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