Three Days in Bed with a Stranger
The morning light is dark with rain.
There is an unfinished tattoo
on her left shoulder.
And I remember
you closing the door on us.
Your words hung in the air for days,
like this Louisianan heat.
As if saying that you still loved me
would set things right.
There is an unfinished tattoo
on her left shoulder.
In the dark. I am grateful.
That our scars don’teven matter
Charles Coakley Simpson
June 27, 2013 | Categories: Poetry | Tags: Bitterness, Closure, Companionship, Compassion, Intimacy, Poetry, Regret, Unconditional love | 5 Comments
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Charles
Outlandos d'Amour
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