Written in response to Forgotten better days from Jilly for jilly’s August challenge. I can’t and won’t write a sad ending, not today! Jilly’s part is in bold and mine are italicized. Join the fun over here.
Smoke gathers round the rim of my coffee cup
remnants of the skirmish in my untouched bowl of cereal
your suitcase sits by the door, the new leather one
not the weary worn green canvas with tags from our trip
to Paris last summer
leaving me with a million
Forgotten better days and a badly written play
Blurred words seep through the wall
you on the phone with some unknown
A smile bleeding on your sharp lips
A smile, I witness only in memories.
Your feet dancing to a beat inaudible to me,
Much like how we did through the French streets.
You kicked the case, so did the receiver the phone.
The coffee burned my lips, confirming reality.
Forgotten better days and a badly written play.
You tossed me, spun me, my mannequin body.
I would call ‘imposter’ if not I heard your voice.
That stunning melody I heard singing in Paris air.
Came through you gushing, drenched in joy.
“An year in Paris, finish the job, take the wife, I’ll pay”
She blanked on his arms with a curve on her face, no more-
-forgotten better days and a badly written play.
Jilly/Jeren collaborative poetry.