Monday, 3 April 2017

poetry 2017 / 039

Satellite of Love

Wishing on a shooting star
that turns out to be an old satellite
in a decaying orbit
burning against the outer edges
of a twilight atmosphere.

My wish, forgotten now,
against the memory of my love for you,
burning in the toxic atmosphere
of your casual disregard.
Do you remember me at all?
I still sing the song you wrote
the one about you being in love
(just not with me.)
It's been twenty years
and I can't remember the words
but it really doesn't matter.
No-one remembers Castor and Pollocks anyway.

Anyway, you must be way old now
and I can barely remember your face,
though our two dogs were my best friends
and I never saw them again.

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