Poem 27 (Collection 1)

Don’t leave, not yet;
I’m not ready, not yet.

Did I push you too far?
Did you trip and fall over the edge?
Are you hurt?
But look, I am!

Will you wait a little longer?

No one is more familiar with my scars,
than you are.

I could doll up in my finest silk blouse, and
spend a quiet evening over
a plate of street noodles.
They are my present favourite.
Would you let me capture a few
last pictures of us togather?
Let’s laugh with the clinking of wine glasses.
I drink occasionally
to keep myself company,
some sweet wine or martini.

Don’t leave, not yet!

Here, let me write you some poesies
or humour you with my flaws.
Let’s cruise the road into the sunset.
Stop by for a smoke, may be?

I could show you, a part of me,
you’ve never seen before.
But promise me, you will not fall in love with me
again.

How silly, this heart of mine!

We could camp out in the terrace
under the same stars, dark blue skies, and
a haloed crescent moon.
Sing ourselves to sleep –
sing songs my heart has always ached to sing.
I could tell you chapters of life spent without you.
Exchange notes on our strangest fancies, perhaps?

I’m scared of what lies ahead, Darling.
Scoop me out of this uncertainty;
just stay a little longer…
just another day,
just another night,

into my peyote of love and dreams and neverland.

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