Jan 3, 2009

If Only, C.Crowley

If Only
By Claire Crowley

Ripples in the pool

under the full moon sky, tonight.

Consumed with the thought

that I just might want to stay here forever,

and you,

you take my hand to

tell me the best things in life barely last a second, or less.

So I smile, a sad, tragic smile

and close my eyes.

Predictable, this will pass.

This feeling of being

alive and fragile

but bigger than the world

and free

but entangled in you.

The feeling of stomach churning, palms sweating, nervous fidgeting.

Laughter in memories

of late nights in dark places and smiles.

Smiles that let me forget the gaps between us, victims of bad timing.

Tragic, another place, another time. Why?

The glow of the dashboard witnesses

whispers shared with each other, never told

to those that were supposed to be closest to us.


This isn’t right, guilty conscience.

Somewhere someone waits for you to get home.

And we are in fact, complete strangers.

Complete strangers that complete each other

scary and unstable, but, what is a life of regrets.

You trace my depravation of happiness

down the small of my back

in my wine stained dress

I promise to miss you

when you slip the ring on her finger,

out of my life and

into the darkness

beneath the ripples

of what could have been.