Confused
You will be. When she throws her hair
In your direction will be words: some
Nice hair, as well: golden, flowing in the
Sunset-elision with the mountainous landscape.
Sometimes, ‘Yes’, sometimes, ‘No’, but always
The same weather, the same face, the same
Teachers asking the same questions, ‘Confused?’
‘No!’, ‘You will be.’, ‘Will I?’ I don’t want that – I just want you.
Your sensual frame manifests my fragile mind with your
Mixed answers; multiple choice: yes, no, later, not now
- You choose; leave me in the dark. Darkness soon eclipses
The golden, flowing sunset-elision is soon eclipsed by your shadow.
© Joseph Tradescent
Poems
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