Jan 28

I Still Did It

I did it.
 
I know.
 
I touched it: follow the lines that it made.
 
Follow it: look north, look south.
 
Find it. It lives near the sea.
 
I smelled it: from the pomegranate that she picked from the tree.
 
For the picnic.

It swirled together, staining her freshly-bleached dress.
 
I still did it.
 
I tasted it: the sweet juice trickling down her milky skin.
 
The fruit jewels were soaked in it.

Soft, but hard to chew.
 
I heard it:
 
Drip
 
            Drip
 
                        Drip
 
I thought it was the wine.
 
Drip
 
            Drip
 
                        Drip
 
Down
 
Down to the sea.
 
Back and forth
 
Flowing into the tide.
 
I saw it: the wine that spilled across the sand.
 
The splatter across the white rocks.
 
That blossomed

By the seashells.
 
I sensed it: she knew.
 
She knew me.
 
My eyes
 
In her eyes
 
Reflected

Into the puddles of water.
 
I thought it: your family is my family.

She was mine as much as she was yours.
 
I still did it.

 
About the Author: Saia_Patel
poetry is eternal graffiti written in the heart of everyone - lawrence ferlinghetti
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