Inbox/Other
with Rosie Smith
Cobwebs now grow on my conversations with her,
Intrigue has fallen to a lack of hours,
Or time in the day to pursue a lyrical fling,
A silly thing.
I’ll write her again,
She might reply,
One day,
Like a bolt from the blue,
A last heroic charge back to the hot lust,
Of a lover unmet.
2.
An admission for you;
Her heart does ponder,
Loves letters of wonder,
As much as the next.
Her heart swells,
In rolling waves.
It’s often the untouchable,
That she craves.
This “lyrical fling”,
Of a maestro who sings,
Is spice in the day of this frivolous heart.
But can a black-text romance,
Ever really stand a chance?
Her heart,
Can it be tamed?
The art of love letters,
Has surely changed.
3.
The message was sent,
The reply received:
Understood. But how
Can a dusk fuelled,
Love note writer,
Find resolve for,
Feelings placed,
In unknown places?
She say she understands,
And so i finish this note,
With a kiss,
And no regret,
For that vision,
In a picture,
On a rooftop.
X
