to Juliette?

to Juliette

 

I ought to ring you
or send you a letter
to tell you it’s over -
that what I thought was love
was no more than lust

 

I want to say 'don't call me,
don't post me your sadness
in a tear smudged letter'

 

but I picture you naked
at my skylight window
singing a lullaby
from your Auvergne homeland
while feeding pigeons
with crumbs of baguette

 

and then coquetting to bed
to bathe me in love…

I want that again

I ought to tell you it’s over
but I can’t.