"Dead End"
The coffee sits on the counter
In a little styrofoam cup
streaked with red lipstick
Post It notes
littered with
scribbled "I love you's"
tacked on the fridge
your dress lies
on the bed
it was strapless
and came slightly
above the knee
your scent
still clings
to the pillow
I replay
old messages
left on the answering machine
just to hear your voice again
woke up this morning
it's been months now
I spend the days
in that corner diner
we used to have lunch at
writing letters to you
that I don't have
the intention of sending
I ran into your sister
the other day
she said you moved away
to Europe somewhere
met some perfect stranger
who finally gave you everything
that I couldn't ever hope to
at night I still go to the same spot
we once shared
when our hearts were full
and the world seemed
brimming with possibilities and wonder
the stars shine brightly
as the moon illuminates
the street I walk on
moving ever forward
until I reach
the inevitable
all the while, I think of you
the desperation, palpable
as I close my eyes
and in that moment,
we are together once more
though forever apart.
Copyright: 2009, by Raymund Diaz Delizo
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Poem: "Peephole"
"Peephole"
I've been watching you
for months now
trapped in this lonely
uninviting space
I see you walk
down the street
you stop for coffee
at Starbucks
every Tuesday at 8:15 a.m.
you go to the gym
with your Walkman in hand
your favorite color is midnight blue
and your smile reminds me
of Gala apples
and your scent is a cross
between jasmine and vanilla
you brought home sometime
the third Sunday three months ago
he fucked you up against the wall
raised your skirt and you gasped
no panties, the bastard squealed
I watched from the peephole
of my door
you knocked sometime later
but the lights were out
and I was getting to know
myself better
what would it be like
to hear you breathe
to feel your head resting
softly against my naked chest
you don't have to worry
your dirty little secret
is safe with me.
Copyright: 2009, by Raymund Diaz Delizo
I've been watching you
for months now
trapped in this lonely
uninviting space
I see you walk
down the street
you stop for coffee
at Starbucks
every Tuesday at 8:15 a.m.
you go to the gym
with your Walkman in hand
your favorite color is midnight blue
and your smile reminds me
of Gala apples
and your scent is a cross
between jasmine and vanilla
you brought home sometime
the third Sunday three months ago
he fucked you up against the wall
raised your skirt and you gasped
no panties, the bastard squealed
I watched from the peephole
of my door
you knocked sometime later
but the lights were out
and I was getting to know
myself better
what would it be like
to hear you breathe
to feel your head resting
softly against my naked chest
you don't have to worry
your dirty little secret
is safe with me.
Copyright: 2009, by Raymund Diaz Delizo
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