we met in Parisian cafe,
in Rue Montorgueil that we used to visit
and observe flower girl across the street
and her sophisticated manners

he let me sink into his embrace
for a moment
before pulling back with excuse
that there's no enough of time
for us to be feelingly
in the place full of plaid tablecloths
and all things French

in attempt to hide frown mood
i curl my thoughts and fingers
'round the coffee cup,
trimming memories of us
when he let me find the hideout
in his leather jacket

his amber colored eyes smile
as if they read my mind

i realize
i will always love him this way—
spectacular in his desire
to see me falling back
when his polished shoe
accidentally kick mine

©LadyLazarus​

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my past came to visit tonight
and found me bundled in Debussy's Nocturne,
waiting for the sky to stretch the star
and shoot me with poetry

if i knew i'd hear her knuckles on my window
i'd turn off the lights
and close the curtains
to her tenacious grip

i loosen my hair instead
and take a sip of White Zinfandel,
ready to down the bottle
on the wrong B flat octave

she said she came
to dress my heart in melancholy
and brought a jukebox with songs i retired
when they made me cry

i sat her at the edge of my bed
and listened to the cadence of her voice
singing about all the times she swore she loved me
but still let me go

my ink spilled a few poems ago
and i told her she can't stay
long enough to shut the moon down

but she whispered
she has a new quill to sell
if i only change the record

©LadyLazarus​

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