sad love poetry – The NY Literary Magazine

Scars by Beatrice Preti

And when I grew weary of all of the scars
I counted the scabbed bits littering my heart
And picked them off quickly,
so no one would see
All of the damage that
they’d done to me

But it hurt when I pulled,
and all the bits bled
It made my heart ache, and
it stained my hands red

You pick up a stone along a path
to carve into the shape of your heart
Your eyes sparkle under a moonlit sky
Or is it just my imagination?
You offer it to me with thousands of promises
and I take it, no questions asked

Sweet words slip from your lips
but it tastes bitter on my tongue
You wrap me in a tight embrace
and I choke on the crisp night air

My hands sense nothing,
when I long to touch you
My arms, deprived of your curves
My eyes, blind to see your borders

I can’t hold you anymore
as the sun is a kidnapper,
a tormentor, who tears you apart

Dear Suki: Culver City, June 17th,
your shoes are large and I put them
on, trying to ache through the miles
you had walked from this wild grass
I no longer mow. Pronged fibers curl
above my steps, gathering the way
smoke shoulders its particles up the
exhaust hood. But idle feet can’t tar

Falling for her was like summer rain,
First drizzle, then hurricane;
With thunders, with lightning, heavy and fast,
Meant to dishevel, but never to last.

Being with her was an autumn fire,
Vibrant and quiet, a bright red desire.
For she was fresh coffee brewed in the morning,
And you were vodka down her throat burning.