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Click hereRemember her fingers
that strummed her guitar.
Remember her voice sing
in low murmurs of sadness.
She sat on bare, wood floor,
dressed in black.
Long, straight hair
fell into her eyes,
but I saw the tear.
And even now
I can't remember her name,
though I certainly remember
the latin she spoke,
the shape of her mouth,
and the sound of her song.
No courage from me,
no bravery to brush
that tear away from her,
and soon her feet led her
out of my room,
back to her parents' house.
I hated how little I tried
in fear of some retribution -
too much afraid
of parental, societal
and internal doubts
about the nature
of love and desire.
After I unemotionally denied
her heavy, soft eyes,
she left and did not return.
A memory of one kiss
still awkward in my head
gripped me with regret
when she later refused
to give me even a glimpse.
Haunted by a black haired girl with a guitar ~ regret for not following up on that first kiss.
beauty, just beautiful, wish I had something better to say, but I dont. I really enjoyed this poem, a lot..thank you :)
the reader senses much more than is told - a beautiful depth for a such a concise work - well done
this is so sad..and i experienced the very same in college.
the taboo..i couldn't..i wouldn't..and for years i didn't..cept that lonely kiss of college days! 33 years b4 i found the depth eyes can take..the soft sensual touch of a woman..now i can ..i do..and i will..this was wonderful hun!
tender, sweet.
Tha pain of being who you were at the time.
Great stuff and great subject.
Thank you