Telepathy

I sat up writing one long verse-filled night,
I wrote self-pitied, literary lies,
That shrank and shriveled in the scornful light
Of dawn, across the mocking saffron skies.
That very morning she walked in on me,
As if I’d willed her through Time’s speed and space.
She said she’d just come by to stop and see
If I still lived at the same one-room place,
As if we were old friends and nothing more.
I felt my cracked illusions knit and mend,
I hoped my once-wet wounds were drained and dried.

girlfriend-boyfriendverse

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