Sunday, July 5, 2009



In truth,
the only time I have ever slept with a Poet
is when I have slept alone...


It is funny those things we are forced to remember
and those which we are compelled to forget

I don't think we should talk about love.

lovemedon'tlovemedon'tlovememememedon'tlovelovelove
don'tdon'tlovedon'tlovedon'tlovemelovemelovemelove
don'tlovemedon'tlovelovelovememeloveme

I don't think that is a place that either of us are at,
Have we ever been there?
If I tell you I have love in my heart
and I believe. I believe
But my mind betrays me. Was it ever really there?
I can't tell you the answer.
I can only show you where we are.
Here, love is not here.
And if I hurt you. If I crush you
If I walk away. WHat would you call that?
That is the mind screaming to stay away.
Stay. Go away. Stay.
Don't love me. Love me. ME,
We live our lives the best we can.
I suppose the only way possible.
And in spite of everything we try to create something
that has meaning. Means something.
To me it doesn't matter for what.
It just is for the sake of is.
All it is are my thoughts
and thoughts are just the mind's way
of trying to define reality.
So you want to know what mine is?

Read my mind.


©2009~SophieD

1 comment:

Thierry Texedre said...

Peut-on parler d'amour à cet être cher si proche de soi, et si éloigné en même temps par l'esprit; comme s'il était ailleurs, songeur, cet autre si près de soi, par son odeur, le frôlement de sa peau, mais qu'est-ce qui vous oppresse chez lui?