Held as grenade
coloured fingerprints
from a love crime scene,
Darling, Night Arrived without you
Turning memory until wrist snapped,
one man solved the cube in three seconds
but for others,
decades play dice with never-ending seasons
Red was the seductive flame of her dress
kindle to the diesel within my grieving eyes
petrol pirouette and she was destined to
dance into every dream within my harbour.
Until she realised the dance floor
was swelled with gyrating cock
and she danced with another…and another
Haberdashery of green seaweed
slowly unbuttoned her silk blouse
naked in our secret cove.
Three waves stopped our Lighthouse blinking
suddenly, phones stopped ringing
Blue were the cave paintings upon hearts
go tell the neolithic priest
to amputate every limb
bar third finger, left hand
then she did something really fucking stupid
…….and died
Bride wore darkest shade of black
bridesmaids could have been transvestites
soccer hooligan best man should have left
his drunken anger on the terraces
My father mute to celebratory hymns
silently screamed ‘what the fuck you doing son’?
Sorry Dad, should have listened
and returned the twenty toasters to senders
Dreamt about the six last night
and fell out of bed thrice,
it’s funny how yellow bleeding into orange
doesn’t always seduce sensual sunsets
Forgive the s’ alliteration above
tenderly bite your initials into my neck
and become the seventh of love ever
Unto, upon are even when
time’s sandstorm will never blind me
you are a master writer so full of passion makes me long to know you ❤️
you do know me crim. lol. i’m also great friends with poetspeak & styxian.
Raw and unforgettable, this poem is an unfiltered outpouring of a messy, deeply-felt heartbreak.
Grief, love, and memory twist together like the cube itself, and the striking imagery -from the “petrol pirouette” to the painful truth that “yellow bleeding into orange doesn’t always promise a sunset” perfectly captures that internal chaos.
The frustration of the Rubik’s Cube beautifully reflects the struggle to reconcile a beautiful memory with the painful reality of loss and betrayal.
I love it. It’s brilliant and beautifully written.
Wow RomaJ ,you have a job as the editor of my never to be published poetry collection. Not that I have any desire to be published. It’s enough to know my words have touched the soul of one across the Atlantic. It was a task to compress my train-crash love life into one poem. Diolch.