Of Course

Of course...
I still think of you

Embedded in my marrow
are the syrupy tones
of your coiled promises
and blended truths

You mouse away with
mounded morsels of
no vital importance

Of course...
I still think of you

Binging on a freshly
green heart that was
placed at your feet,

You turn over the pith
...gone is its toothsome
unripened essence

a substantial slab

I will always
think of you
...of course.

1 comment:

  1. It is work like this, which sadly does not come along very often, that makes me want to put down my pen, and stop hitting the keys. Brava!