XXLove letters

 

 

When you crashed out,

 

I remember the lines,

I remember the author,

I remember the girl loving only two boys,

One of them was a poet,

The other one was her husband,

A very special man,

He was special enough to be her ex,

Successful success should last,

If it doesn’t, it dies in the cradle after the birth,

No one could recognize in a homeless clochard,

A once thriving young poet,

Who conquered Montmartre and Paris,

He was so good with words, 

He choked to death on his own vomit,

He was a genius,

Misunderstood,

He was ahead of his time,

Following eccentricity of his paranoid logic,

His tortured by alcohol body was found,

I knew he had neither rent nor wallet,

Anyway I dropped by,

Everyone thought he was a drunkard,

A jobless and lazy man,

They said ‘Watch out. He is a mental patient’,

He was hospitalized,

On his way out the door,

He continued drinking again,

We wandered the nearby hill,

We had a long conversation,

She couldn’t stop talking about his terrible death,

How fragile he was,

Like a kid he was unprotected,

She couldn’t stop reciting his poems,

She still loved him in the present tense,

Then I understood how lucky I was,

Surprisingly rhymes lay down,

On the soft warm spring evening,

On the fluffing her light brown hair spring breeze,

They sailed away,

Like their creator they were unafraid to drown,

I had not recognized the poet,

But I remembered his metaphors,

Driving everyone crazy,

Thanks God,

 I couldn’t love him the way she did,

Otherwise when he died,

I would have died with him,

His death would have rhymed,

One more quiet tragedy of lonely roads,

It was staged in the land of the wealthy.