Treasure Island

Agatha Portugal


Pain.


From time to time I
think of you. How much
we could have given
to the world
together with our almost

love – yes
You,
Me,
Us.
There never was.

From the very start,
I knew. But;
I tried to see
if we could possibly
work things
through.

I am a fool.
I admit –
Stupid!
Blind!

I
think of you
when the wind
blows me
cold, very cold;
when I walk home,
when I see high aquiline noses,
when I hear
a beating and hopping song.

Why?
Can you just let me be?
Maybe, a part of you
Still clings to
the memory
of sweet pictures
that could’ve been framed
forever in the ceiling.


Let me go.
Don’t think of me, Im thinking
of you. Im so tired
of being
held captive.

Im so sick -
like I’ve been
punched in the chest with
eyes forced
to leak
hot, salty tears;
veins twist
migraine kicks as
I curl in my bed
under the sheets. I’m
still cold,
so cold.

The memory of you
haunts me. You are
no one. You are
nothing
but …

Submitted: Tuesday, August 27, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, August 27, 2013
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Poet's Notes about The Poem

To Kenneth.

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