Prelude of a Liar

There is no attachment. 

I am distant from you.

As distant as distance goes.

And when your gentle heart

Brushes against my own--

We are but different seasons

And hollow, sinking boats.

I want none of you.

My chest does not ache

When your fingers reach--

Outstretched for me.

We are both together

And far, far apart. 

I am gone from your shade.

There is no oak overhanging--

No leaves of yours in my hair.

And if I were to turn around

Pulled by a tempest’s winds;

Then I could not see you there. 

I am the frosted over glass--

And I know only the silhouette 

Which stalks the other side. 

There is no face to you.

I have never known your eyes.

We are but fellow warriors

And mad, wandering dogs.

Whose misery has little to do

With the other’s scorn.

And from my own words

I formed the pit in my stomach. 

Because despite what all I’ve said

And all I loathe 

And all I mourn. 

Yours is the only color

I can say I've worn. 

Reviews

[gabrielle]

The style reminded me so much of Pablo Neruda, and the content made me think of those star-crossed lovers and long distance relationship. Beautiful piece of writing.

[Coyote Poetry]

This is poetry dear Anna.
"We are but fellow warriors
And mad, wandering dogs.
Whose misery has little to do
With the other’s scorn."
I loved the above lines. I knew the madness once. Cold heart wanted little and always a eye on the door. Thank you for sharing the outstanding poetry.
Coyote