Sylvia Lupien | + Follow Poet |
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New Years Day

New Years Day

You say she's the one for you
And who am I to deny that's true? 
You live with the promise of her forever
And certainly seem to forget our endeavor. 

Now my pen is quiet
with gentle brush strokes
no more of the fury
no more of the fire, 
It's gone with the wind
And no longer has desire. 

To write of the love that we had before
To write the story of the slammed poisoned door. 
Slammed shut on our chances, 
slammed shut on our glances
Across the room with a fiery stinr
Like out love was crossed on some
invisible string. 

So now we move on. 
We pretend that we're golden. 
Because now our hearts
Have been shattered and chosen 
To move with the times, 
And settle in with our rhymes. 
On paper and in hell,
We tell each other 
we wish you well. 

But none of those lies
are ever really true. 
And each of the lines
Are trapped in the blue. 

And so, we read
in between our minds
And we both know 
that we aren't really fine. 
Because love drips from each stroke 
and every other line. 


So we write and we give up
A silent cry to the sky
We try to reach and we try
so damn hard to die. 

With each passing moment. 
For if we even for a second
Did show it, 
I'd run back to you
Without hesitation. 

And you know that's true, 
So you block your own mind
The trains have now left all of the routes
and diverted all the stations. 

Back to your mind
And back to your love. 
I silently look 
to the heavens above. 

And wonder if you'll 
Treat her better than me. 
As heartbreak takes over
my own sad
reality. 
As I play back our times
And craft them in rhymes. 

Because she is now me, 
I know without a thought 
That I'll be on your mind 
In all the answers you sought. 

So think of me while her hands trace your cheeks
And think of me when I'm no longer in reach. 
Think of me when my touch
lies like a ghost
Forgotten
On the wind
Of your love
And think of me when your mind
traces her and her thighs. 

And when you have a spare moment
now and then, let my thought in. 
Because this love we have chosen 
Is now quite our burden. 

And now the east wind 
Joins our hands
as we scatter and cry
At least we are looking 
up at the same grey sky.

Copyright © Sylvia Lupien | Year Posted 2025

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