untitled poem

perhaps what-if

I am your ‘perhaps’
you ponder in a lonely night
You are my ‘what if’
I have trouble sleeping at night.

I am what you tell your friends
as the one that got away.
You are the Skinny Love
I listen to every night and day.

You whisper my names
when you have one too many drinks
I search for your lips
in the smoke of cigarettes I inhale.

After all,
our dream of becoming
Desmond and Molly Jones 
turned out to be
a hopeless agenda.

Because in life,
we can’t simply take 
Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da
when we want some fun,
can we?

— z.bastien


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s