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:
I thought it was the wine.
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

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