les pauvres cœurs


Monday, August 20, 2007

For Nora II

Nora, I am sitting on a dirty tile floor
wondering where the hell everything went.
I am punching walls and screaming
but my knuckles will not bleed and my throat
refuses to make any sound.
Nora, I am collapsed on the floor in a puddle
of black and glasses
Wondering what it will take to cry again,
and if you're thinking of my drunk promise
and secretly hoping I'm keeping it
but I'm trying whether you know or not.
A poem everyday but sometimes the words
just won't come,
Like you.
Nora, I miss your face and your warmth,
I need somebody here telling me I can make it
I wish that person was me.
Or you.
Nora, if you think we can't make it
Just remember our heart-hands in the ocean
under starlight, eternal lovers, and my nose.
We can make it.
You can do it.
I will always believe in you.

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