If I Never


If I never had met you
would I still think love was clean,
like a pressed white handkerchief
and all the edges matched,
and it never tasted rancid
or felt like wet wool on the hottest day in July?
If I never had met you
would I think kisses were sweet, 
and that the music in your head could be shared?
If I never…
Paper dolls crimp so easily with nothing holding them up,
they’re not made for rain and clumsy fingers
but I cut myself out of pretty paper and dressed in 
shiny beads
because your crow eyes would love them,
and a nest alone in the sky would have been a fitting end 
to the fairytales I was writing.
If I never if I never…
Would your golden ways have held me in thrall if you were someones elses
Or would I have been shaken to see the fear calling itself love
written on the palm of her hand so she couldn’t forget…
Would I have held her shaking laugh
gently so it wouldn’t break
and told her
it was alright not to get the joke,
that pouring concrete over your feet and 
then making them dance
is not romantic,
and that no should not ever be followed by please…
If I never had met 
then left 
would I think that I was
Could I have found my way through the forest without the crumbs,
would I be living in the
here and now
or would I waste away at a distance
because from there you cannot see the mess.
You cannot hear the questions
or see how many pairs of dark glasses I could wear at one time.
If I never …


About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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2 Responses to If I Never

  1. debra says:

    Exceptional writing!! Well done! Peace 🙂

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