A Poem on Thursday : Eat Your Heart Out

Image: pepography (via the drifter and the gypsy)

Eat Your Heart Out

I've come by, she says, to tell you

that this is it. I'm not kidding, it's

over. this is it.

I sit on the couth watching her arrange 

her long red hair before my bedroom

mirror.

she pulls her hair up and

piles it on top of her head-

she lets her eyes look at

my eyes-

then she drops her hair and

lets it fall down in front of her face.

we go to bed and I hold her

speechlessly from the back

my arm around her neck

I touch her wrists and hands

feel up to

her elbows

no further.

she gets up.

this is it, she says, 

this will do. well, 

I'm going

I get up and walk her

to the door

just as she leaves

she says, 

I want you to buy me 

some high-heeled shoes.

no, I want them

red.

I watch her walk down the cement walk

under the trees

she walks all right and

as the pointsetta drip in the sun

I close the door.

- Charles Bukowski