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Rated: E · Prose · Entertainment · #997209
so bright for us, so black for you...
1953 Sweetheart of the Month

I left the box for you,
hoping you'd somehow open
my homemade vault,
just by feeling it
sitting there.
Treasures of you,
I'd stolen and kept
over the years.

The yellow socks
you left behind at the laundry,
the coffee cup graced by your
generous pout at the cafe on
Bourbon Street,
the earring-back that flashed
in the sun,
the worn, delicate glove
that slipped from your coat
in New York that cold, windy day.

Watching you look for it, I see you wondering
where it had gone, and tucking
your woolen scarf
tighter, deeper
around your neck.

Wanting to be that scarf, wondering what
your skin smelled like, and how soft...
my face nestled close to you.
Vulnerable, innocent you.

But you never saw me,
as you raced away
in taxi cab and limousine,
pomp and circumstance,
parade of paparazzi,
glitz and glamour,
so bright for us,
so black for you.

Treasures of you,
I'd stolen and kept
over the years.
I left the box for you,
hoping you'd somehow know,
the way I felt,
the way we all felt,
Dear Ms. Monroe.


(written for Round One of the 2005 Summer Poetry Slam, my first attempt at SLAM-ming of any kind.)
© Copyright 2005 Zoo - Salted and Roasted (msalvo at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/997209