Does the dog still bark, when after midnight
heat forces you to fling the window open?
I miss your laid-back voice in the humid dark.
How does the third layer of blue dry on the
Oil you once started painting for me?
I don’t have bad memories. I’m sad about the
future, a naïve daydream that we’ll never share.
We’re both jaded enough to know when it is over.
We have seen many sunsets sink down
into picturesque silhouettes of broken lovers.
Still I feel I should have yelled at you just once
to procrastinate my lingering heart attack but
you are too distracted anyway.
So, come out Heart, let’s walk along
the lonely woods and breathe some sexless air!
Let us sink down on a rotten stump and watch another
bloody sunset because this time it isn’t meant for us.
© the author writing as Gurkski