I've struck gold with this time in between
the times when we went back to less nothing more something.
Less of the something we've been for nine years
and more of the nothing that turns on to his back with a sigh
Inevitably groping for trousers and breathes an overdone joke.
As though to draw our friendship like a line across
Our brief interludes as lovers.
I'm lucky I got time to convalesce
Before I let him lead me back into Ariadne's murky labrynth
dragging my rationale like thread behind me.
Letting logic take a beating from impetuous passion
forgetting well known faces and replacing them with the memory
of the blush that drew slow to his cheek and kisses
That could almost be affection.
I'm glad to welcome this nausea now
the plummeting feeling at the heart of my gut, appropriately brutal.
Occupational hazard for those like me
who deal in delusions and always end up saying please.
And know in the end that nothings lost that was ever really ours
But somethings gained in that beautiful blush that
I can't keep from breaking my heart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You must be a patient architect of things or a craftswoman of great ability. This was a well constructed poem. Not at all like most I read. No ramblings here. Nicely done. GW62