Usual, no flinch in the thick air of sin,
everything stays on place
despite dozens of arguments between
sleepy mornings and lusty nights,
nothing have moved, nothing have faded away.
Curtains still strain exhausted light,
rays of shiver coming from outside
in the remorseful beginning of winters cold.
The blanket is there to hide unreasonable fears,
your body, to defend my innocence.
Box of cereal, half- full yesterday,
half- empty today,
begging for a date with skim milk.
No chance to succeed,
I’ll throw it again
seeing it old, not All-Bran,
crunchy and brown enough.
Dark blue dress, labeled with rigor,
”I’m ready, I’ll cherish your feverish skin.”
The shoes, scratched from walking
cup of water to feed the violets looking pretty,
sandwich of tuna and lettuce teases hunger,
seems again to fit the routine.
Just sounds of broken sparkles,
follow as I go downstairs,
I hear the click,
loud, persisting appearance,
leaving me shamefully naked,
saying it’s never going to be the same.
Not my afterthought escaped to visit
another sweet embrace,
another golden prison.
Not after flicking flames of pink candles,
lit as a votive,
doesn’t show sparkling love, just
lust worth living …
After troubles with my old account, I had to make a new one.
The blog is now called brokensparkles.wordpress.com
And since I already had a poem named like this, why not start with few Broken sparkles.
I hope I will still have the love of all my old visitors.
© 2011 Broken Sparkles