Black/Broken
A Poetic Double Bill
(Poetry in normal is Broken; poetry in italics is Black)
You could say
his life was destroyed
that night he saw
the kiss.
Hard to believe
she was all black.
Her hair, sparkling, long,
but entirely black.
Her rounded face, prominent features,
tattooed over with black.
Her eyes, twisting, dancing,
shining with violet black.
Or you could say
he got what was coming to him.
The two of them would
never work;
he was an extremist,
she was an artist...
It was a canine crush.
Jewellery black!
Tattoos black!
Shirt black!
Trousers black!
Shoes black!
Then again, you could say
it's better this way.
She'd never thought of him
in that way before,
and he'd been too shy to pluck up
the courage he needed.
A life of your lover not loving you?
What kind of love is that?
And her lips!
Oh, her lips!
So very dark black that it hurt.
You could also say
that he should have seen it coming.
His best friend had always said
he'd like to make a move;
after all, she was cute,
and sure,
he was regarded ugly;
but inside
he was a pretty nice guy.
I loved her
as soon as
I saw her.
My little black pixie.
And you could say
that's bad timing for you.
For he was going
to make his move
by the sunset
on the exact same night.
He just didn't get there in time.
We were talking, looking out at the sunset.
Actually,
she was talking, looking out at the sunset.
I was just staring at her,
staring into the
black black black
of her.
Night time,
take your black somewhere else;
you can't compete.
What’s more, you could probably say
that maybe things could be different.
If he hadn't left his best friend
with her by the water fountain
to go get some fries,
or if he hadn't gotten caught up
in the closing rush hour
at the local chippy,
maybe he'd have gotten there
earlier.
Suddenly, she stopped.
She looked at me, confused.
Her black eyes
peered intently at me, intrigued.
And,
with a bit of spunk,
a bit of courage
and a bit of insanity,
you could even say
that it was
the force
of
destiny,
destiny for him
to get there in time to see
she laid a hand,
black Chinese tattoo,
on top of mine
the holding of the hands
and the question
"What's wrong?" she asked
and the blushing
I couldn't take it
and the blinking
I couldn't hold it in
and the shutting
I leaned forward
of the eyes
eyes shut
and that
one
single
small
kiss.
I couldn't stop myself;
it seemed so...
natural.
She was surprised at first,
but made no effort to resist.
She held me
and kissed me back,
her black radiance
shining onto me.
Me and black.
black and me.
My little black pixie.
Or you could just say...
his life was destroyed
that night he saw
the kiss.
