In the error of my being
enveloped in your breasts, I wake
to protest my flailing love
for women and women-like things
Floating within your peripatetic mind
to find you searching
for a morsel of pain, the kind that
debilitates your sorrows away
sometimes I regret, having asked
you to wait, for me and myself,
while I hid, right where the horizon ends,
and the seas began. I predict rain,
pouring, tumultuous torrent,
before the day’s end.
I wish I talked in my dreams,
I wish you’d listen to me,
until then, the same
our sorrows and sleep.
P.S.- Embedded here is Chet Baker’s sorrowful creation ‘Almost Blue’. I have decided to accompany my poems with a song/tune of my choice. May be it will help the readers understand what I had in mind. Also, anything is better with a background score.