untitled # 597 - part the second

after graduation I would stop by her house
and report on what I was doing with
my time
I told her about a friend of mine
who was writing poetry by staring into
a candle and the candle would inspire
pomes
she made me promise I wouldn’t ever
do it; promise me, I remember her saying
promise me…
and I promised.

she thought
the devil would
come into my soul
because I would be hypnotized
by the candle
she thought I was silly
running around late at night
drinking coffee and tearing up
bits of paper
wanting to be a god
of my own

I don’t recall any other girl
ever being so worried
about the outcome
of my soul

at least
not in that way


© 2007 woundedlordliterature

April 5, 2007

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