It's a gloomy and rainy Sunday morning. Again, I reviewed some old poems I wrote 5 or 6 years ago. I felt the urge to edit them so I can share more to you guys. I'd appreciate comments, reactions and even corrections. I hope you'll like this one.
Breakfast (with Arthur)
I didn't notice
the sun’s warmth
kissing my skin.
My mind is floating
while staring at you.
Silently, you would
touch my cheeks
as I bury my sight
on your French toasts.
I passed the syrup
while I wonder
how your tea would
taste like without
the milk, without me,
would you still drink it?
we uttered no words,
but eyes are conversing -
a breakfast of promises.
as you place your ticket
on the table, your hands
conquered mine, quivering.
gripping it hard
is like crushing my soul.
assuring that distance
will not stop us
from sharing breakfast
together, never!
I said, to wait for you
is like waiting
for these sandwiches,
hunger will grow more
in anticipation.
uncertainties will add
bitterness,
yet the waiter
seems to care less
Fate will be the waiter
and my breakfast will
always be any morning
i will never know
when, nor will I
really be having.
I ate silently,
for later tonight,
I need the energy
to force myself
not to cry.
-ed
