Patrick Cornwall Poet Narrative

Mime

Slowly I knock on your invisible door.

Listening for your cold heart and I wait

The silence comforts me and your heart is asleep

I pick up the invisible glass of your blood

It is drunk slowly as I taste and the savors

I don't have to be quiet but I am a Mime

I should have screwed my silencer on my gun

 I wait at your door and hope you will see me

Amidst the shadows like wallpaper I hang

A single tear rolls on my whitened cheek and the glisten

I  watch with an incredible ache as he comes in and the sadness

I gladly tap him on his shoulder so we can dance and I long

But I am not noticed and I shudder and yet I keep watch

And the pain

I see you again in the subway as I do tricks and my cup

My faithful cup filled with memories and coins

Coins that i can never use

I have no pockets to keep my feelings in and the coins

I slowly move and  bravely part my lips

I gently and silently kiss your sleeping lips but am left bitter

Tomorrow i will do more of the same

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Louis Drago August 8, 2012 at 9:32 PM Patrick... I love this poem of quiet terror.... very intense... Louis Drago

Erich Goller April 9, 2012 at 11:39 AM That's a very imaginary story poem. I enjoyed reading it.God bless you. Erich

Poet Destroyer A April 4, 2012 at 10:34 AM Patrick, this is a very fine and funny poem.. lol.. love the second to the last line...he he..i can imagine your mime hands at work... sad, on some images...but, a mighty fine poem,,always..pd

Fabiyas M V April 4, 2012 at 8:32 AM Beautifully penned,Patrick.

Kathryn Collins April 4, 2012 at 7:48 AM Wow Patrick this one gives me chills. He's ghost and mime, stalker and emptiness. Most of all you've captured terrible aching in your words. love, Kathy