My tongueless goodbye

by xanthan gum

Published April 5, 2006

Here it comes

At three in the morning, half-asleep
I’d listen to Spanish in my ears
Your pink lips slurring them,
Not love songs, but fanciful nonsense
Anything to make me smile
In under two tenths of a second
You were my mood ring,
Just fitted to size and changing colors with me
Soft, sweet and sensual –
We could make sunsets ten times faster
Just in a fraction of life,
A sweet cut out of cake,
You’ve been my Spanish tongue
When all I can learn is French

Heart sliced on our discarded coke cans
We’ve turned cold as we roll away
Souls that used to sleep side-by-side
Now dwindle on a dock by the sea,
Rolling waves crashing out each other’s whispers
I danced, skirts waving night skies,
You sobbed many nights, boyish tears round and blue
They’ve stained my fingers frostbitten
Passion can’t live when you don’t feed it
It all began to fade when I took Spanish lessons,
Learned the words and realized all you ever were
Was sweet nonsense and friendship rings

Ended, splayed across my kitchen table,
You trample out the door
My thin arms are pushed aside
Like broken toothpicks on the cement ground
I staple my heart to the window,
Indulge by a battlefield
(Which I’ve won, mind you)
Staring distantly at the bits of air
That you have left behind

Despedida
I’ll miss the fact that I’ll never
Get to petal the ardent language
I’ll miss you – I loved you
But now I know why Spanish love
is commonly just a one-night stand

Comments & reviews · 6
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emotion_less
Review
emotion_less wrote a review Review · Apr 6, 2006

Yeah...

I'm pretty much jealous of you now... :)

This line kind of disrupted the mindset of it when I read it:
(Which I’ve won, mind you)

But... wow... there's nothing I can really say... except good job. :)

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Elizabeth
Review
Elizabeth wrote a review Review · Apr 6, 2006

I liked this but there was one little thing that annoyed me and threw off how I read it:

They’ve stained my fingers frostbitten
Passion ...

What? I don't know what to say to that, other than what.
I liked the thing though, better than any break up poem I've written. I don't think I"ve written one about Connor yet.... hmm... I should, if I get seriously pissed at him again.

And most of the people know why.
Nice poem, as usual.

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jesusfreak60305 Comment
jesusfreak60305 commented Comment · Apr 6, 2006

The title of the poem got my attention, and the imagery kept it.
I loved the line about hearts cut on coke cans. It's beautiful, you are an amazing poet.

User avatar
Black Ghost
Review
Black Ghost wrote a review Review · Apr 5, 2006

Oh, My God You are such a good poet. How do you come up with this stuff?

Most time when I write a poem I sit there for like an hour and come up with the dumbest thing ever. And yet every poem you write is like PERFECT.

well, anyway, I didn't really find anything wrong with this so you should just keep it the way it is.

Ok that wasn't so helpful but I loved your poem.

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Firestarter
Comment
Firestarter commented Comment · Apr 5, 2006

This was ... beautiful. You're such a great poet. I loved this.

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Snoink
Review
Snoink wrote a review Review · Apr 5, 2006

I must admit, the title is very catchy. In fact, as soon as I saw the title, I wrote a poem with the same title, just because the title is totally awesome. It's not nearly as remarkable as this poem or even somewhat close in the awesomeness level.

You have such a nice style with poetry, it's irritating in a completely positive way. I don't know why, but your poetry can just make me melt. Continue it, or I will have to kill you.

Understand? :D



It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tube-shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats—the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill —The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it—and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another.
— JRR Tolkien