Archive for August 2nd, 2007

02
Aug
07

Entangled, a poem

She was always using my brush. I hated that.
.

Your hair is still entangled in my brush.
Your number’s still inside my phone.
It seems as though I’ve not been in a rush
To rid myself of these reminders of how once

Our lives were as entangled as these strands
Of hair, or that once upon a time our heads
Lay together on pillows in the same warm bed.
Or that our souls belonged to one another.

But now I clean my brush, remove your hair
Disentangle it from mine forever.
I delete your number from my phone.
I purge you from my heart and soul,

But not my memory, where you abide
Like the strands entangled in my brush.

–Stephen P. Smith




taking up a glowing cinder with the tongs and lighting with it the long cherry-wood pipe which was wont to replace his clay when he was in a disputatious rather than a meditative mood" ~ Dr. John H. Watson ************************
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