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Ghost Writer
by William Sorvillo
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  If you decide to kill our love
the saddest truth is that one day
I'll remember you again and realize
that it wasn't meant to be.
I'll say all of this was good for me,
that I learned so much from you,
that I know now, why we're not together.
The saddest truth is that one day
you'll wake up with out your anger
and you'll go about your day saying
I was just another jealous man.
You won't be able to discern me
from the pile of men you keep in your memory.
The saddest truth is that you loved me.
The saddest truth is that I loved you.
And the most beautiful truth -
that I still do.
And since you left, my heart's become
an ashtray.
My friends try and persuade me.
They tell me I'm the center of my Universe
They think Galileo deserved to die.
Since you left, I bought a red candle,
etched your name on the side, rolled it in sugar.
We burn for you.
Since you left-only alcohol, only marijuana,
only you have access to my mind.
Since you left
your brown towel has become the shroud of Turin
and your memory strangles me with it.
Clowns and children can't revive me.
Jesus Christ pours me another glass of wine.
Since you left John Coltrane slits my wrists.
Mirrors make me cry.
Hallways wrap their long arms around me
and tell me dirty lies.
Since you left I sleep alone.
I forget to breathe.
Food makes me sick.
Since you left no one understands my pain.
No one knows you like I do.
No one looks like you.
No one speaks like you.
No one walks, no one laughs,
no one exists but you.
Since you left everything real has melted away.
I want forgetfulness to kiss my forehead.
Since you left
I've got a thousand poets in my room
wishing they were me.
Thursdays became Saturdays.
Tuesdays became Fridays
and every day screams
drink me from behind the bar.
Since you left I've lost my mind.
I've lost my journal.
I've lost my heart, my lungs,
and now without you
only my skin holds me together.
Come...eat my light...
just a drop of your voice would heal me.
Because when you left
you castrated my soul.
You would not let me touch you.
So I've wrapped my skin around these words -
the last ones I will ever write for you.
December 16 ,2001
More by :  William Sorvillo
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Solitude and other poems by Rajender Krishan
 


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