Roz Kaveney (rozk) wrote,
Roz Kaveney

Oh dear, poems about love. Again


So out of love we do not even speak
Every few minutes one might steal a glance.
A year no word or touch. And now by chance
Sitting some yards apart. Our stares are bleak

As winter tundra nothing lives but moss
Grey unforgiving. Almost I forget
How once her smile or touch could make me wet.
It's over now not even like a loss

An ache has gone. I'm past a fever's end
So cold I shiver. There is nothing left
My memory of all save songs bereft.
Love ate itself and took away a friend.

Indifference? Can I say it's sincere?
I doubt I'll know until at least next year.
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