Sunday, October 28, 2012

if you don't love me, pretend

she likes to write in riddles

"- seems more intellectual that way -"

to type in riddles - maybe
the more apt
because she rarely writes
in paper and in pen now

"Do you have any idea how many times I press CTRL-Z?"

like the riddle of those
Greek worlds
that she mulls in the bright
moonlight; a furrow on
her brow, a flick of her tongue
while he sits beside
her and pounds
on what she disdainfully calls

[wrinkled nose] "Hmf, cheap lager."

but he'll have his revenge; all he has
to do is motion at
a waiter
and order something; tonight, it's
a Dirty Black Russian

"I know, I know, vodka, cola... vodka, cola... I hate you."

and I hate you sounds so sweet'
when said from
her lips because she never
says I love
you, never says it at all

"Love isn't a riddle."

he smiles
and tells her that the words
she is looking for are
'coffee liqueur'


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