oysters


we could eat oysters
under the moonlit sky
and nothing would change
except, perhaps, the taste in your mouth.

how many calls have you missed
¿y cuandos calles anduve contigo
como si estuve solo
?

your touch would have been enough
if it weren’t for the look in your eyes.
and i guess that’s just it.
that’s just fine.
one day i will cry the mud out of mine.

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7 responses to “oysters

  1. Very nice! if you are interested, you might like my own (slightly loaded) poem about oysters:

    http://francoisbergh.com/2011/12/22/oyster/

  2. Really nice, loved it! :)

  3. GSohE: Sad, worldly…like a tango between two lovers… RT

  4. Ohhh, heart wrenching and, yes, I had to use Google Translate ;-) I hope I can cry the mud out of mine. . .

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