I shouldn’t have left the house


I shouldn’t have left the house

 

I ought not to walk over and tell your mother

how beautiful you are.

Or how you strained my heart

when you put those tiny hands on that shiny counter

closing in cakes, scones and ginger bread people.

 

I ought not to walk over and tell your mother

you would look better dressed in blue velvet.

That you should be wearing mittens

in this cold weather, and a hat.

 

I shouldn’t have found this cafe,

seen you and your gorgeous blonde halo.

I need to swallow my smile when I walk past you,

put my hands in my pockets,

and try not to touch and stroke your head.

 

But I need to wait now, my chest hurts

and too many ghosts are laughing at me

and pointing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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