The shape of your face
And strands of your hair,
Your fingernails,
Your eyes
Lipstick and mascara,
Black silk stockings,
High heels
A taste of your body
On the tip of the tongue
Like raspberries in the morning
Your silhouette
Punctuating the air,
Not quite forgotten,
No longer there
Things hard to let go of
Echo like footsteps
Through the empty rooms
Lined with portraits
That no longer belong here,
Anymore, things
Like the first day of summer
Remembered in September,
Your face
That pale moon
Seen above roads stretching on to nowhere
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Author Notes
This is perhaps the quintessential romantic poem, that moment of lost love, still hanging in the air after its substance is gone. I tried to work in all those tangible physical images of attraction that ring in our minds, and also to work in elements of loss, the portraits that remind us of happier times, and the feeling of a relationship going nowhere, ending up like that moon, or that summer, that started out so promising and wound up empty and meaningless. Alliterations are a big part of the musical elements of this poem, and I tried to create drama out of the line breaks. estory
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